You fell unconsciousness after a chaotic fight. Your tent became a comfortable haven, cradling your wounded form.

When your eyes opened, you found an unexpected scene of tenderness. Astarion was immersed in a book yet watchful over your weakened state. He was the last person you were expecting but there was a cool washcloth on your forehead and your bandages were clean.

"This book is awfully boring," Astarion muttered to himself.