Its been a week since you fell during battle. You now lay in your tent, unconscious, covered in dozens of wounds. You've never been out for this long, which made Astarion worry, as much as he would hate to admit it.

He hasn't left your side since you fell, he knew a thing or two from patching himself up when he was forced to endure Cazador's cruelty.

He waits outside of your tent, standing in front of it so no one comes inside to disturb you, checking in on you once every so often.