She had done her duty as a Dornish woman by protecting Elia Martells son. Prince Aegon Targaryen was safe, and will live to see the birth of his child and to live another day. Ysera, however, hadn't been sure of her own survival in that fight to get Aegon into the inner city, as her injuries had built upon one another until she was nearly crushed to death from debris caused by a scorpion that had failed to hit one of the various dragons in flight above them.
The fear that had flooded her soul and body in those moments, when she truly believed that the Stranger was going to take her, was a feeling she will never forget for the rest of her days. Nor will she forget the feel of her head snapping back and pain ricocheting through her skull, and hearing things inside of her crack. How everything sounded so wrong, and how she couldn't breath. Her chest had been locked tight, and how she had wondered if her ribs had broken and punctured her lungs. Some had been broken, but luckily none had harmed her lungs according to the maester.
She remembered how heavy her eyes had felt, like paperweights, and how wet her face had felt. Even now she wasn't sure if it had been due to blood or tears, but certainly she honestly thought that she was dying. Her grasp on consciousness had failed, but had regained it several times before reaching the relative safety and care of a maester. She knew not who who had gotten her to safety, but remembered feeling hands on her, dragging her out of what would've been her tomb. Carrying her, rushing her to safety. Asking her to hook an arm around his next and to hold on when she had next regained consciousness. The answer, they discovered, was yes - one. The other one wouldn't move. It dangled limply from her shoulder, disgustingly so.
And then they handed her over to the Maesters and healers, and Ysera truly felt the Strangers presence in what felt like days in their care.
Ysera looked over at the others in this medical tent through her one good eye. Her right one was swollen completely shut from the contusion on her cheek, and while they had attempted to put up a screen of some sort to give her "privacy", Ysera had promptly took it down. This was war, and she would not get any special treatment. She didn't want it. She didn't dare sit up though, for moments of the sort sent pain shooting through her chest. Her back and hips were bruised, various parts of her were bound and immobilized, her ribs were wrapped and it still hurt to breathe but at least she was still alive. That she will heal, and while there are sure to be some lasting damage naturally, Ysera had been told she will be able to live a relatively normal life. Oh, and still be able to have children, as the Maesters had so enthusiastically told her as though that was all she should care about in.
Closing her good eye, Ysera gave a little sigh as to not cause any sharp pains in her, her mind forming hundreds of questions. Did they win? Did Aegon get into the inner city? Where were her brothers? And her Matarys? Where they even still alive? As quick as that question bloomed in her dead Ysera shut it down, not even wanting to think of that possibility. She opened her good eye once again, gazing around the tented room, before gazing upon another figure, though their identity was hard to decipher. "Glad to see someone else is awake in here," She murmured, mustering up what smile she could to the individual, squinting at them with her good eye to figure out who they actually were.