First came the sickly, sour taste. His lips cracked apart stubbornly, chapped and crusted. In order to survey the unfamiliar situation, his tongue creeped and ran across the edge of his mouth. It smoothed over tiny, craggy peaks of skin and dried spittle, ending in a surprisingly wet pocket. Disturbed at this new sensation, it probed further and was met with a smooth, salty sheen.

He'd been drooling.

Ricken made to wipe his chin off but was stopped by a searing bolt of pain that ran through his left arm. Every part of his body suddenly jolted awake. His eyes shot open, blood rushed back into his previously dormant legs, and the cobwebs of sleep cleared themselves out of his mind. When the pain settled down and he finally regained control of his body, Ricken eased into the lumpy sterility of his bedding. Another wrong move, as he now felt a dull fire burn through his lower left leg. His leg and arm screamed in unison, eventually dying down to a tender whimper.

With groggy eyes, he scanned his surroundings. Around him were neatly prepared cots and tables laden with various bottles and metallic instruments. His robes sat neatly folded at the edge of his cot; a simple white shirt and grey woolen pants now covered him. A distinct alcoholic smell tickled his nostrils with every breath he took in. Beneath it all lay the scent of blood and rot; the ghost of a pained injury or a quiet death lying in silent meditation. He'd never been infirmed himself, but he'd been in the medical tent many times before. The stink seemed to be a permanent fixture. A constant reminder of the life he had chosen and the consequences of his actions.

Ever since he'd joined The Shepherds, Ricken had grown accustomed to the smell of death. Limbs that had been rent asunder with a screaming blade of wicked steel and flesh singed by a powerful blast of pyromancy had become routine aspects of his life. He reasoned that this was a necessity. That what he was doing was for Chrom, for all of Ylisse. He firmly believed that. That didn't mean he had to like it.

All of his meager efforts had drained him of energy he didn't have. A specter of a memory passed before his eyes then. He was twelve and not yet a student of magic. Gone was the pungent sterility of the medical tent, replaced with the warm heaviness of his mother's bakery. Gentle hands seemed to run across his forehead and soothe his aches and pains, setting him at ease.

When his formerly-noble family had fallen on hard times, Ricken's father had taken what he could and ran off. His mother soldiered on and used the remaining funds to open up a store in the city. It was in a small attic above a simple bakery that the young mage had grown up. Ricken's mother rarely spoke of her past, never wanting to burden her son with such knowledge or guilt. But gossip and a natural curiosity uncovered the truth: a political marriage, rapidly building debts, and a nobleman's pride.

Ricken had grown up as a noble in name only. In retrospect, he preferred it that way. It taught him humility and a meek temperament, he always told himself. But not all lessons were easily learned. Rumors were harsh and children even harsher. Adults had a subtle way of inflicting abuse, such that one might never even know about it. Children possessed no such grace. They were almost animalistic in that regard. Every beating that Ricken's body endured, he suffered ten-fold verbally.

But even now Ricken didn't remember the cruelty of his peers or the snide judgment casually inflicted by haughty nobles. He remembered the smell of his mother's bakery. The soft, savory warmth that welcomed him home without fail. The amused and concerned mirth in his mother's voice as she cleaned and bandaged his cuts and scrapes.

It was there when he left for The Academy and would be there for him when the war was over. Of that, he was certain. Gently, sleep overtook him once more.

Ricken smiled wanly as he took another bite out of the sandwich Nowi had brought him. "I bet Lucina wasn't too happy about that." He shifted his body against the pillows that propped him up. Pins and needles pricked at his lower back, chastising him for not having moved sooner.

"Pfft, you know her. Little Miss Stick-in-the-Mud." Nowi grinned and skipped on top of the surrounding cots. "It was my best scare yet! If it wasn't for Robin I'd probably have been dead meat!" Her violet eyes widened in horror at the ridiculous prospect.

"To be fair, there are probably people better than Lucina to frighten. She's already a pretty tense person as it is."

"Yeah but that's what makes it so exciting!" The girl beamed white fangs, extremely pleased with herself.

Ricken couldn't help but chuckle. Nowi's enthusiasm for even the most mundane and childish things was infectious. She was a welcome distraction from his fitful bouts of sleep and the sharp throbbing in his arm. He'd only regained consciousness for a day or so and the dull monotony of the medical tent was starting to creep up on him. Imagining the pages of his tomes and notebook weren't quite as good as the real thing.

Two weeks. That was how long Lissa had given him to recover. And even after those two weeks were over, he was by no mean out of the woods. It'd take just as long if not longer for his leg to completely recover, let alone his arm. Clerics and their magic could only do so much to heal serious wounds like the ones Ricken had sustained. The body would have to do its own work in the end.

More time for his body to rest meant more time for his mind to wander. Stray thoughts would pass through his mind, almost always returning to Anna. By all accounts the battle had gone well so he rest easy knowing she was okay. With each passing hour, however, his eagerness to see her once more developed into subdued anxiety. He had no explanation for it other than a pressing need to be near her. A pleasant shiver ran through his groin as he recalled the last time they'd been together. He pushed those feelings away by stuffing his mouth with the remainder of his sandwich.

Nowi's bright grin faded for just a moment. Her gaze focused intensely on Ricken before she smiled once more and hopped onto the ground with a swing of her cape. "Anyways, I should get going. I saw a grilled rabbit in the mess tent with my name on it!" She leaned in towards Ricken and pushed lightly against his forehead. "Get better, silly. Can't fight evil from bed."

With that, she vanished through the tent's flaps, leaving Ricken alone with his thoughts.

The orange glow of the setting sun peeked into the tent as Anna pushed the flaps aside. Ricken had played this scene over in his head dozens of times. Part of him wanted to kiss and grope her, while part of him wanted to laugh and talk with her. All of him wanted to simply be near her. She stood momentarily at tent's entrance, lips pulled taut into a thin line. As soon as she locked eyes with Ricken her face brightened and she beamed a grin at the young boy. In spite of that, doubt began to gnaw at his mind.

Why was she here? To see him, evidently, but was there more to it? Why hadn't she come sooner? Would they continue where they had left off? Ricken stopped and chastised himself for such greedy thoughts. She had other things to attend to. Other priorities. Still, did that mean that he was a priority for her? It had only been a couple days and here she was. The last thing he could clearly recall was grabbing at the enticing curves of her rear, ready to thrust his manhood into her. Surely she hadn't forgotten. Regardless of her intentions, he was still overjoyed to see her again.

Anna sauntered over to his cot, far enough from the entrance that it all felt private, though it was anything but. Ricken was sure that rumors were already making their way throughout camp, yet he didn't entirely mind the thought. He did wonder nervously what Anna had to say about it, if she thought of it at all.

With an almost exaggerated sigh Anna plopped down on an empty cot at Ricken's right side. A dark brown satchel fell between her feet, thumping dully against the ground.

"Long time no see, kiddo."

Ricken smiled. "It's been a while."

"Hope you haven't forgotten about lil' old me." A playful giggle escaped Anna's lips as she poked a slender finger against her cheek.

Ricken drank in everything about her. The fall of scarlet around her cheeks. The way her garments hugged against the curves of her hips. For better or worse he'd gotten quite good at stealing glances at Anna.

His reply to her came out more level-headed than even he expected. "Only if you haven't done the same." His words hung in the air a moment too long, long enough that something passed between Anna and Ricken just then. Arousal? Surprise? Longing? Whatever it was, it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Anna seemed to ignore it.

"Aside from that nasty fracture in your leg and a sprained arm, you don't seem to be any worse for the wear."

"I should be so lucky…"

Anna smiled. "You should! Not many people can take a full on hit from a wyvern."

At that, the gears in Ricken's mind started turning. Whether it was to protect his brain from the trauma of the incident or the overwhelming intensity of what was about to occur just moments before, he had all but forgotten why he was in this medical tent to begin with. The sensations hit him first: an intense heat, the smoke burning his lungs, and Anna's panicked voice. Clawing through the fog of his memories Ricken finally grasped at something solid.

"Your wagon!" he exclaimed. His wounds screamed at him for disrupting the calm stillness they had settled into, and he bit back a scream in turn.

Concern washed over Anna as she leaned forward to ease Ricken back down. "Hey now, easy does it." Once his breathing steadied Anna regained her chipper demeanor. "Eager bugger, aren't you? I probably shouldn't have to remind you, but wounds take time to heal."

The young mage ignored her playful quip. "But- but your wagon! It was on fire, wasn't it?"

A grimace snuck its way through Anna's smile. "It was, sure. Might be a little singed but everybody's fine, Catherine and Emile included." Her voice took on a nearly imperceptible softness. "And so are you, it looks like."

"I guess so…" Ricken tried to pin down what exactly she meant behind her words. Before he could probe further, Anna reached excitedly for the satchel at her feet.

"Hey, no time to be a sourpuss. I brought you a couple get-well presents!" The look on Ricken's face as she pulled his work tome from her bag was more than enough to win a warm, hearty laugh from Anna. She placed the hefty book on the table next to his cot and reached back into her satchel.

Basking in the glow of an unexpected kindness, Ricken nevertheless eagerly awaited the second half of what would constitute "a couple" get-well presents. With a flourish Anna produced a dark glass bottle, its contents sloshing around.

"From my own personal stash."

Normally, Ricken would have protested alcohol of any kind. His instructors had impressed upon him its ill effects and how it dulled the mind and corrupted the spirit. His mother allowed a taste now and then and he always recoiled from the sour liquid. Such reservations, however, melted at the sight of Anna's bashfully pleading smile.

The bottle opened with a pop and Anna brought it to her nose for a quick sniff. Pleased at what she smelled, she reached across to Ricken and wordlessly offered him a drink. The boy showed no hesitation and accepted it cheerily. In one swift motion he brought the bottle to his mouth and tipped it at such a high angle that his mouth quickly filled with the cloying sweetness of the wine. In that instant, his mind conjured up images of a well-worn oak table, the smell of fresh flour and rising dough, and a profound sensation of melancholy. With puffed up cheeks he fought back a gag and managed to swallow it all. The bitter acidity stung his senses, but after a moment or two of coughing, a cozy warmth began to radiate from his belly.

Anna took the bottle from him with a smirk. "Easy tiger, I only brought the one. This isn't a contest. Leave some for me to enjoy."

The cheery woman took a respectable swig, wiping her mouth with the back of her arm in a gesture that was decidedly un-ladylike, but so very Anna-like. With bottle still in hand, she got up to stretch and groaned pleasantly. In an awkward shuffle she took a few careful sips as she pulled the cot she was just sitting on closer to Ricken's. Careful and conscious of the injured limbs on the left side of his body, Anna sat back down and leaned over to rest herself on his lap. The red locks of her ponytail swished towards Ricken's face, allowing him to inhale the citrusy-sweet smell he'd been missing these past couple days.

A familiar jolt of pleasure ran through his lower body, but he summoned whatever willpower he could to keep anything further than a guilty shiver at bay. She faced away from Ricken towards the oncoming twilight that peeked in through the tent's entrance. Without shifting her comfortable position, she twisted her arm around to offer the bottle back to her companion. At first glance they way they were arranged looked uncomfortable to rest and difficult to drink wine in, but the two of them weren't particularly concerned about appearances. The deep, dark liquid successfully made a few rounds between them until it reached what Anna would call "the comfy line."

Ricken's head swam in the mixture of alcohol and Anna's presence. He could feel the heat emanating from her, made all the more apparent by the approaching night. In the growing darkness the swishing of wine against glass and small, satisfied gasps were the only noise in the otherwise quiet tent. Somewhere in the time that had passed Anna had taken to drawing small circles in the fabric of Ricken's pajama pants. Too afraid to look down at her for fear of breaking the calm serenity, Ricken lay in a comfortable haze. After a voiceless eternity, Anna's laugh cut through the silence.

"Y'know, it's a funny story 'bout how I got this wine." Her normally lax speech was made even looser by the alcohol. "It's a Chon'sin vintage, but…" she paused to take another swig then passed it back to Ricken. "This bottle of sunshine was actually made in Ylisse. Goes way back to a minor dispute some years ago that had Chon'sin on the losing end. Part of the terms of surrender was handing over a tribute, ten percent of all exports for the next twenty years. Paying for damages and such. Thing is, Chon'sin vintners are stubbornly proud of their work. Won't let any dirty Ylisseans use their grapes to make subpar wine." She smirked at an unspoken memory. "Long and short of it: Chon'sin bureaucracy is helping me feed my alcoholism."

It was meant as a joke, clearly, but Ricken still turned over her statement in his mind trying to fill in the blanks that lead to the punchline and where exactly Anna fit in. He suddenly realized he didn't know the first thing about her. He certainly knew her blunt and earnest nature was refreshing, if off-putting, and he was slowly getting used to it. Sometimes eagerly expecting it. But as for who the Anna was that lead to the Anna he knew now, he had no idea.

"I guess I'm not doing you any favors either."

"I'm allowed to indulge now and then." She swished the bottle around knowingly and offered it once more to her companion, who accepted without thought. "Perks of the job."

Ricken felt her move off his lap, his blanket a poor substitute for warmth. She hummed tunelessly as she reached into her bag. In a matter of moments, a small light sparked and puffed into being. It grew imperceptibly, tiny flames licking upwards and casting wild shadows against their surroundings. Onyx puffs of smoke wafted out from a solitary match and crept into the boy's nostrils. Ricken glanced over to his right and could make out the faint outline of a small oil lamp. Between the lamp, the wine, and Anna's proximity to him, a dull heat flushed across Ricken's face. For the first time since she had entered the tent, he took a good look at her and lost all capacity for thought or speech.

Anna was beautiful. Scarlet locks burned against the tepid flame of the lamp, framing her heart-shaped face. She wore the knowing smirk that Ricken continually longed to see. Even now he was lost in the soft contours of her smile, the small vibrant pink of her lips pulled taut that lead into mischievous dimples. He stole quick, intermittent glances at her piercing ruby-red eyes, hoping that the darkness of the tent and his infirmity would mask his attempts at being crafty. A childish hope, perhaps, but one that his inebriated ego clung to.

The silence passed a moment too long and Ricken suddenly realized he had been staring. His eyes darted frantically away from Anna, then back to her when he deemed that too extreme a reaction. To his relief, her attention was still on the flame in the lamp. The deep crimson pools of her eyes gazed longingly at the flame, as if begging it into existence. Ricken coughed uncomfortably. It felt like he was intruding on a private moment.

"I just realized… I don't know what day it is or where we are," he casually remarked so as to dispel the awkward atmosphere he felt developing.

"Neither do I," Anna replied as she straightened up to hang the lamp up on a nearby hook. The intimate, nostalgic air she had surrounding her had dissipated and she was back to her usual self. She plopped back down into her comfortable resting place on Ricken, returning a much needed warmth back to his body. He felt a shiver run once more through his groin as her arm lay across his lap to prop herself up, but he did his best to suppress anything more than that. "Does it matter?"

"I was thinking about my mother earlier." He hadn't meant to share that thought out loud, but he didn't particularly care. Another swig of wine passed his lips and the bottle returned to its owner.

"Yeah?" Anna paused to take her own drink. She held the bottle up, scrutinizing its contents. Less than a quarter remained. A good enough amount that she took a hearty gulp. "I bet she's nice." The woman grinned to herself and produced what was halfway between a hiccup and a guffaw. "Bet she runs a bakery." Anna settled deeper into his lap and sighed contentedly.

Ricken felt suddenly drawn to Anna, even deeper than he was before. Whether it was a growing sense of daring or lack of inhibitions, he responded to her with a wary hand that crept against her arm. "She does, actually. Back in Yllistol, right off the city square."

A slow giggle from Anna developed into a deep, earthy laugh shared by the two. Amidst the laughter her free hand found itself resting gently against his thigh. Without giving much thought as to why he did it, Ricken squeezed her arm.

"Ain't that some shit. She any good?"

"Of course she is, she owns a bakery."

"Gonna hafta' try some then." She snuck another sip before passing the bottle behind her to Ricken.

"You should. She sends a basket every month. Worries I'm gonna starve."

"Nice lady. Wish my mom thoughta' me like that." Ricken didn't know how to respond to that. But he tried all the same.

"Are you close with your family?" He gave her arm a soft squeeze and she returned it with one of her own against his thigh. Absentmindedly he took a drink from the bottle.

Empty.

He dropped the it to the ground and closed his eyes, easing back into the pillows that were piled against his back.

"'s weird growin' up with so many relatives," Anna remarked, somewhere between a scoff and a confession. She spoke as if she weren't talking to anyone in particular. "You think it'd be nice but you kinda get lost 'n alluvit. Lotta expectations. 's almos' kinda funny how much I fought with my family." Anna's speech was getting sloppier with each passing second. "Guess I was too wil', even fer their standards. But 's hard ta get noticed, sometimes."

Anna's body sunk deeper against Ricken. Through the bitter sting of wine and antiseptic he could smell the faint trace of lemon and summer that was uniquely Anna's.

"Yer a good guy, Ricken," she mumbled into his lap.

The inexplicable force that was drawing him to Anna had now swallowed him whole.

He breathed her scent in one last time.

When Anna awoke the tent was coated in an inky blackness. An eerie sense of calm permeated the air, both reinforced and held at bay by the steady golden light of the oil lamp burning above. Years of experience, caution, and late-night drinking judged that only an hour or so had passed. Her body still radiated with the warmth of the alcohol, a feeling she never ceased to revel in. Wine had always been a staple of her family's merchant lifestyle, but it wasn't until she became familiar with the irresponsibilities of youth and academia that she appreciated it for its inebriating qualities. For better or for worse.

Muscles, tendons, and bones creaked and groaned in a pleasant cacophony of rousing stretches. Anna pressed deeply against Ricken's lap as she brushed the cobwebs of sleep from her mind and body. Suddenly, she felt his body squirm under her. She eased her way upright, ready to greet him, but was only met with a light groan that melted back into soft, steady breathing.

The lamp hung above Ricken's head, bathing him in muted yellow tones. Anna had never taken a good chance to look closely at Ricken before. Certainly, she thought he was cute, adorable, and a mix of several other innocent sounding descriptors. But here, the lamp highlighting the contours of his flushed face, chestnut hair draped lazily across his forehead and spilling back against the pillow, she could see he would become a handsome young man.

A small voice raised in the back of her mind began to protest, but she willingly sunk back into a haze of grogginess and inebriation. She ran a stray hand slowly up his uninjured leg, poking and prodding along the way. Her actions elicited another light groan and squirm from the boy, breathier and heavier than the last time. The warmth from her absent body still clung to the blanket, slowly dissipating into the cool of the night air. Mental gymnastics and a sudden growing heat between her legs spurred her on to more daring actions.

In one fluid motion Anna snaked her hands underneath the blanket and caught the hem of his pajama pants. The uninterrupted breathing of a deep slumber gave her the go-ahead to continue. She continued to drink in his features as she pulled his pants down along with the blanket, stopping just shy of where his injury began. His cock now free, she shifted her gaze downwards. This was the first time she'd ever seen it in its natural state, unaffected by hormones or her presence. That would quickly change.

She readjusted her seated position to make herself more comfortable and snuck her fingers under his sack, gently grasping and tugging on his balls. Another throaty groan and his slowly expanding member goaded her on further. The small voice from before tried to speak up again, but seeing Ricken's sleeping face was enough to quiet it down once more. Still giving attentive care to his sack, she leaned forward and ran her tongue lazily across his cock, starting from its base and moving right. She left behind a wet trail that ended with a laughably chaste kiss on the tip.

Her lips caressed the end of his member and suckled lightly. The groans came more steadily now, transforming into low, heady moaning. She widened her mouth just enough to let his cock slip in and slid her tongue around its length, pushing back foreskin and enjoying the taste. What had been soft and malleable in the cool air of the tent was rapidly becoming hard and firm against her tongue. Blood rushed into Ricken's member and expanded it, pleasantly filling the confines of Anna's mouth. There was a slight pause in her ministrations, just enough where she could focus on the warmth and vitality coursing through the cock in her mouth. Her own womanhood had begun to mirror Ricken's increasing arousal; a stray hand slid between her legs and pressed against her mound. In spite of trousers and undergarments preventing her from slipping fingers into her dampening folds, she nevertheless continued pressing against the outside of her clothing. Slowly, her hips began to push back against her hand.

Anna soon developed a back and forth rhythm between lavishing attention on the throbbing cock in her mouth and sating the growing fire between her legs. The small moans and squirms coming from Ricken were more than enough to keep her sufficiently motivated in her endeavors. There was always the possibility that he might wake up, but the comfortable warmth of the alcohol was enough of an assurance that Anna could continue uninterrupted. While the thought of the young mage waking up to the sensation of his dick being vigorously sucked excited her to no end, she felt an even greater thrill from knowing that he was helpless and at her mercy. Amidst the drunken haze of Ricken's and her own pleasure, the tiny protesting voice from before still remained. It was by no means an unfamiliar feeling to Anna, but she'd had more than enough experience with it to be able to ignore it.

Before that line of thinking could continue, Anna grabbed hungrily at Ricken's sack and pulled on the two swelling orbs within. Spittle ran down the sides of her mouth as she engulfed the boy's cock in a noisy, swirling vacuum, her agile tongue attacking his member from all angles. Forcefully, almost angrily, her head pushed forwards towards the base of Ricken's cock then began to move back slowly, ending at the tip. Her lips pursed lightly as she slid her tongue against its entrance, lapping up the precum that now leaked out. Satisfied with the amount of fluids she'd wrung out, Anna made her way back down to the root and held her mouth there, inhaling Ricken's scent.

She continued this obscene cycle through countless iterations, all following the same general lascivious pattern: engulfing his cock within her eager mouth, tirelessly kneading and tugging his balls, and gyrating furiously against her own hand in a futile effort to satisfy her own desire. Whatever doubts or reservations she had held before were gone now, replaced entirely by a pressing need to make the two of them cum.

Ricken's labored breathing picked up even more, signaling his approaching climax. Anna worked herself into a frenzy, attacking all of the young mage's most sensitive spots as well as her own. She was the first to cum, juices spilling out and forming a warm damp spot in her leggings. The sheer pleasure and intensity of it spurred her on into one final attack. Anna noisily slurped on Ricken's cock as she pushed herself all the way to its base, a coarse bed of hair pricking at her lips and nose; her other hand, meanwhile, massaged and tugged at the malleable skin of his sack, as if to coax his fluids out.

It happened all at once. She felt his sack tighten in her grip and cock pulse violently. A warm jet of cum shot into the back of her mouth, followed quickly by a second. Without thinking, Anna swallowed hungrily. She lost herself in the sensation of it all: the warmth of Ricken's cock, the slick viscosity of his cum as it splashed around in her mouth and slid down her throat, the pleasant buzzing that coursed through her entire being, manifesting itself as a slow rocking of her hips against her free hand and a low hum that reverberated against the softening cock between her lips. She took her time cleaning up, lazily licking away all traces of anything that had happened. Her pants would need to be washed, but aside from that everything would be just as she had found it.

A hot wave of shame washed over her then. The voice was getting louder. With a quickness that bordered on clumsiness, Anna gathered her things and fixed Ricken's bedding. Some part of her had hoped that he would have woken up. At least then she'd be able to play it all off as teasing. His hormones would have done the rest.

She took one last look at at the boy before leaving.

Author's Note: I couldn't just leave these two alone. This chapter was something I've been chipping away at for a while now, but had lost some steam along the way. Trying to get back onto a daily writing regimen so that doesn't happen again. This was an interesting chapter for me to work on as I'm delving a little deeper into Anna and Ricken as characters. Hope you enjoyed! Next chapter expected to be released in 2020.