Grima had been defeated. Although not vanquished, his presence would no longer bring peril to the world, not for generations to come. A breath of peace swept the world as the wars cooled to an end, stretching from Ylisse to Valm. There was always a call for heroes in the world, but with no wars to wage, mighty champions of every nation began to retire from the battlefields and take instead to their homes. Even the incredible Shepherds, the noble-led mercenaries whose exploits and adventures were critical to saving the world from Grima, had largely disbanded so that its soldiers could cherish what they had fought for.

The tactician Robin and the dark mage Tharja; throughout their time thwarting evil, the two Plegians had fallen in love, united together shortly before their climactic showdown against Grima. In the most pressing moments, Robin was convinced by Chrom and the others not to sacrifice herself, to allow their bonds to stay strong. When the wicked dragon was overcome by the Shepherds, a long life with Tharja awaited her. As both had been dignified and officially titled heroes of Ylisse, they sought a luxurious home outside the capital, a manor to themselves that would allow the two the privacy they desired, but also the closeness to their allies.

Three years had passed since the worldwide peace began. With every subsequent year, it was the case that Robin and Tharja grew more distant from the other Shepherds. It had been that way with everyone truly, but little was ever heard from the married couple. Then, on a day like any other, Lucina received a message, an invitation to their manor. She had adapted to her unusual place in the royal line, taking over as leader for a new generation of Shepherds while Chrom continued to rule Ylisse. Despite the importance of her role, Lucina still made efforts to share time with her allies, and that of course included her fondly-remembered tactician.

After traveling by pegasus, Lucina had reached the manor, taken to a location deep within the rolling fields. The building, fanciful but compact, was perched along a river’s scenic vista. A humble staff of maids and butlers welcomed her upon arrival, politely guiding her through the property before allowing her passage into a lobby. She was told to wait in the spacious chamber while Robin and Tharja returned, and so she did, reflecting off a mirror situated above an unlit fireplace. As Lucina idly traced over the changes to her face since maturing three years, she wondered how different her old friends might be. Tharja was infamously eccentric, while Robin was mindful and delicate. The two were, as Lucina imagined, a peculiar pair, but she would not see herself interrupting their romance.

Interrupting her thoughts, however, was the opening of the doors. Lucina’s smile flashed hopefully, but in the mirror, she saw that behind her was neither Robin nor her wife. Yet, it was a face she instantly recognized, that of another old friend. “Cordelia? Cordelia, is that really you?” she asked, spinning on her heel to face her.

Cordelia was taken back by Lucina’s approach, and her being-there at all. “Lucina! Er-- M-Milady…?” Cordelia stammered, tripping over her words in surprise. She smiled back at Lucina as she neared, deciding to bow onto a knee as a proper greeting. “M-My apologies, milady. I wasn’t expecting to see you here!”

Lucina giggled and gestured for Cordelia to rise. “It’s a pleasure to see you,” she said, “though I wasn’t expecting anyone else, either.”

“You were also invited…?” Cordelia asked as she rose. She looked over the lobby proper, noting the empty lounge chairs and corners. “Robin had requested to see me, but for what purpose, I never found out. I suppose you haven’t seen her?”

Lucina shook her head, and worry claimed the ends of her lips. Her hand instinctively balanced on the hilt of her sheathed blade. “No. Not either of them, actually.”

“Hmm… I wonder what this is all about,” Cordelia muttered, strolling into the center of the room. Too anxious to take a seat, she simply stood about with Lucina joining her. “I hope they aren’t in any trouble.”

“I hope not, either.” Lucina fixed an eye on the doors at all times. “I can trust Robin to call upon us when needed, but… it’s her that I--”

Before she could finish, the doors to the lobby opened. A host had arrived, entering the room with a creeping slowness, like how the night crawled over horizons. To greet Cordelia and Lucina was Tharja, drifting into the lobby with the gloominess she was known for. A long shawl poured over her devilish figure, cast down from her neck and draped in a pool at her feet, its transparency only generous enough to preview the silhouette of her curves underneath. Tharja’s expression was hollow, not unlike how either woman knew her to be, but as the doors closed and her dim eyes scanned the two before her, she was found scarcely smirking.

“Mmhmm~ Welcome to our manor,” Tharja said, stretching one arm out towards Cordelia and Lucina in a suggestion towards the rest of the building. “I am very grateful for your timeliness. I could hardly wait another minute…”

Lucina smiled, as did her fellow guest, but Tharja’s tone left an obvious chill on her. “I surely speak for us both when I say that it’s an honor to be invited,” she began. “Cordelia and I were just discussing for what purpose you called us, in fact. Is there any danger?”

Tharja giggled and lowered her head, “No, no. Not any danger we didn’t ask for,” she hummed darkly. “There’s no need to be concerned for either of us. If anything, we only hope you might understand the brilliance of our romance~ Never before have either of us appreciated such… tranquility.”

Where Lucina was confused by Tharja’s dialect, Cordelia was somewhat more accustomed. She raised a brow questioningly, “That’s… interesting. But, speaking of Robin, where would she be?” Her smile returned with a memory in mind, “Flying here has made me especially nostalgic for those old days...”

Tharja’s amusement edged into a glare while her grin persisted. “You will meet with Robin soon,” she explained. With a step forward, she dismissed the shawl with her arms stretched outward, allowing it to flutter to the ground and leave her form exposed. Lucina and Cordelia gasped at what Tharja displayed, her body nearly-nude posed before them to be seen. Black lingerie painted her most appealingly; a bra that hugged back her pillowy bosom, underwear that clung by threads around her hips, and garters that maintained rich stockings that covered her legs from the thighs down. “For the time being,” she continued without disruption, “I would enjoy nothing more than for us to catch up~”

Lucina shuddered back a step, her mouth agape without anything in it to be said. Tharja’s undressing was a complete surprise that left her openly stunned, but Cordelia was astonished differently. She raised her chin in disgust and scowled at the sultry presentation. Her arms crossed in frustration, finding the act to be wholly uncalled for -- but both women were nonetheless painted crimson with their emotions, stuttering as Tharja showed herself.

“Th-Tharja…” Lucina both began and ended, looking up and down the impressive body.

“Is there any reasoning for this?” Cordelia scoffed, biting her lip with the waning thought that this appointment had importance. “Even for you, Tharja, this is quite… awkward. Pray tell that you didn’t call us over here just for this.”

Tharja was unbothered by the criticisms, seemingly enjoying the spitfire reaction from Cordelia especially. “Such a simple, small perspective…” she replied in a low chuckle. “I promised myself that if either of you could comprehend how momentous my body is, well… then I would consider this whole spectacle to be over. But,” she giggled again, “it seems I had nothing to worry about. Of course both of you would fail to respect a body such as this~”

Lucina and Cordelia were no less confused with the circumstance, their expressions stiffly unchanging as they observed Tharja’s fingers swirl and dance along her body with anticipation. The two leaned closer into one another as they listened to Tharja’s explanation, but Cordelia’s patience had been breached. Offended, she pushed the matter, “Spectacle? Respect? What are you on about, Tharja?”

“A-And… where is Robin, exactly?” Lucina still pondered, a finger at her lip. “Is she, er… aware of what’s happening…?”

Tharja cackled, “I do love to surprise her…”

Cordelia shook her head. “Enough of this game. If you wish to speak to us, then a modicum of manners is only fair to expect!” She uncrossed her arms with a sigh. “Let us leave, Lucina. This is just another of Tharja’s games--”

“It’s far too late to leave,” Tharja teased, her coldness putting a still to Cordelia’s movement. Fingers rolled in a dainty wave as Tharja’s eyes lit up with excitement, “I intend to be your eternal host~”

A second scoff was heard from Cordelia, but in the very next instant, both her and Lucina vanished. Where they stood remained only their intricate uniforms, left behind so spontaneously that the clothes had to still drop to the ground. Armor padding and weapons clanked loudly atop the square stretch of a rug they happened to be atop of, while the softer fabrics collapsed into puddles. A late perspective would have caught only Tharja alone, standing before two distinct messes of cloth.

Tharja keenly studied the pair of spots, delaying her movement so she could savor the moment. Her heart was ablaze, and she cast a hand over where it drummed to keep it controlled. With a gentle step closer, Tharja licked her lips and peered above the blue pile of clothes. She waited, and enjoyed every quiet second of what she observed.

From under the mound came a rustle, a mere bump of life that searched for an escape. From the neck hole of Lucina’s outfit appeared a nearly flea-sized figure, stumbling over the tiniest splits of threading. The wave of noble blue hair identified the person as Lucina herself, an abysmal fraction of her former height. The elegant and devoted princess, feared by anyone that crossed her blade, had been shrunk to a pathetic size, less than a centimeter tall and trapped within her own clothes. She was dumbstruck with the alien surroundings that encompassed all that she saw, as if teleported to a whole new land, but her surprise was magnified as she more intricately scanned the two mountains in front of her -- not soot-covered mountains, but two feet and their black leggings. The peak of these ankles alone would be a journey’s distance for Lucina, but those legs continued to stretch impossibly high into the heavens, farther than she could truly comprehend, but there was no doubting exactly who it was that towered above her, larger than Grima’s monstrous form ever stood.

“Th-This… Can’t be…” Lucina stuttered, her body falling pale under the unreal pressure exerted by Tharja. As she gawked upwards, her balance was lost and she fell backwards into the cloth. So overwhelmed was she that she never noticed her nudity, a natural result for having shrunk into her own clothes. “A-A trick… This is… a t-trick…”

Tharja giggled deliciously, the warmth of her desires rapidly filling the coldness innate with her. Her smile cracked, but she stayed in control, biting on her thumbnail in suspense. She bent forward, keeping her legs enticingly straight and long while she craned down to be above the helpless princess. Her body loomed immensely, but especially so regarding her chest, both globes swaying together with a leviathan weight that taunted Lucina’s belittled position.

Dark strands of hair were lifted aside, and a hand pressed back her bosom. Tharja hummed, “It feels now like I can properly introduce you to my home, heh-heh… Welcome~ Are you breath-taken? Shivering with fear?”

“Tharja!! Wh-What madness is this?!” Lucina barked gracelessly, hopping up and down to emphasize the words in her little voice. She soon collapsed to her knees, blown away by Tharja’s descent when the dark mage suddenly crouched before her. All of her bravery was rinsed in that moment, turning the proud princess into a cowering insect. With what little confidence remained, Lucina spoke up, “Th-This has to be reversible! This must be undone!”

Lucina’s begging was met with a blissful smile. “Oho, are those little squeaks… your voice?” she wondered. “Or are they your screams? In any case, you’re far too insignificant now to be heard. Perfect, hehe…”

The grim voice swept Lucina into shivers, her fingers flexing hopelessly towards where her sword would have been. Her instinct, as always, was to challenge this obstacle, but Tharja was beyond comparison to that of any foe she had faced before. Even the terrible dragon Grima was not so massive, and that was a monster that threatened to devour armies at a time. Simply comprehending the dark mage had left her stunned, a position that left her vulnerable to Tharja’s desires.

“Come here, you little speck~” Tharja giggled. Her hand reached out, hesitating only when the excitement made her twitch. The sprawl of fingers overwhelmed Lucina like an entire league of wyvern riders, the tips crashing down around her like artillery fire. Each digit was huge and wide, thicker than trees and moving far faster than Lucina could. She turned to run, but the wasteland of cloth offered her nothing; the obelisk fingers charged towards her in sync, ramming into her with only enough tenderness to pluck her away.

The winds rocked horribly as Lucina was elevated away, squirming and screaming in the clutch of just three fingers pressed all around her. When the movement ceased, she had to reevaluate the world and her perspective of it; all in front of her was a face the size of a courtyard, two humongous eyes sharply pointed onto her. She was imprisoned by a pinch, captured not like a princess or knight, but like a helpless bug picked off the ground.

“Eheheh…! You look absolutely maniacal…!” Tharja chuckled, her free hand stroking her cheek in delight with what she saw. The tiny Lucina flailed desperately between the pads of her fingers, her efforts barely enough to tickle. “I recommend saving your energy, Lucina. You’ll need it for later.

“Now, about that other one…” Tharja stood back to full height, casually keeping Lucina at chest-level as she twisted to the other pile of clothes. While she had been overjoyed to loom over Lucina, Cordelia had time to digest her situation and make a better attempt to flee. Tharja realized as much when she saw the little rumbling in Cordelia’s corset, the efforts of a rice-sized woman miserably trying to climb out of a cup of fabric.

Cordelia’s attempt ended in failure, defeatedly sliding down into the center of her underclothes. All of her struggles left her crawling in sweat, but she was jumped back into movement when a great thunder struck behind her. She scrambled forward, but was eventually compelled to gawk at what shadowed her existence. Her blood ran cold and her pupils shrunk; while scaling the view that was the titanic Tharja, Cordelia realized that a tremendous foot had been flung overhead.

“Th-This is impossible… No-- No, no!” Cordelia panicked as she felt the foot travel down after her, its size surely wide enough to encompass any path she tried to escape to. The heel soon touched the ground, not far from where Cordelia began her run, but it continued to flatten in a tantalizing descent. Tharja was just playing with her, but it was a game of very real danger to Cordelia, left cowering underneath toes that were the size of carriages.

These toes danced fluidly with Cordelia tripped beneath them, taunting her for being so weak. The foot was angled away, allowing Tharja to gaze down at her victim, much as the victim could stare back at her in awe. “Impressed?” Tharja rumbled, her smirk oozing with a confidence that rained over Cordelia. “You always acted so capable and brave, Cordelia. Where is that spirit now? Have you already accepted having become so inferior?”

Cordelia’s redness flared from embarrassment into rage. She jumped to her feet like a warrior with a second wind, ignoring her exhaustion as to push forward a fighting expression. “I’m not scared of you, Tharja! These tricks don’t work on me!” she screamed -- louder and shriller than she ever before spoke at anyone. Tharja’s amusement was unflinching. “I… I am the most talented flier in the Ylissean army! Th-This will not go unpunish-- eeeaaaiii!!”

All of Cordelia’s poise and passion was stripped as Tharja sat down onto her knees, each step of lowering herself causing an interrupting quake over the clothes. Cordelia’s fury was utterly ignored, too tiny to make an impression. Tharja towered in front of her, and so she was flushed back into fleeing, though it was all too late to try. The dark mage enjoyed watching the attempt for a time, but seconds into watching the little woman race across her clothes, Tharja intervened by pinching her just the same as she had done to Lucina.

Similar to before, Tharja wanted to closely examine Cordelia, doing so with spilling giggles. She kept Cordelia locked in the grasp between her thumb and forefinger, more than enough to keep her pinned with only her shoulders and up exposed. “So, so inferior~” Tharja lauded, a single eye used to scan over the shrunken soul. “You always were, but especially so now. Hehe…”

Cordelia used all of her strength to try and budge the fingers off of her, but they moved only to Tharja’s whim, and that whim was to torment her. When she was first relieved of the forefinger lifting off her back, it shifted instead so that she was pinned differently; her bare chest was flung to face upwards, making it a target for the broad tip of a finger to toy with. Cordelia shrieked and slapped the finger furiously, but Tharja touched to her heart’s fill, molesting the pegasus knight with such a simple and effortless motion. She was just grinding her fingertips together, yet Cordelia was violated and wounded, unable to prevent any of it.

“You must be boiling with anger~” Tharja assumed, correctly. “That itsy-bitsy chest of yours was laughable before, but now what are they? Humiliating? Shameful?” A particularly tight touch to her breasts made Cordelia pop into a yell, but to Tharja, it was an excitingly sudden squeak. “Ahh~ I must not be wrong, then. It’s only reasonable for you to feel outmatched, afterall.”

It became the focus of Tharja’s intent, that exact subject of superiority. She shifted her handling of both women so that they were dropped together in one open palm, strategically held adjacent to her right breast. It was a fantastical mountain to the two lowly spectators, a globe of immense weight that heaved gently to the tempo of Tharja’s expecting breaths.

“There you two are~ I could just lose track of you if I wasn’t… careful.” Every word of Tharja’s was spoken from bitten lips, her cool persona gradually fading into a warmer, lustful mood. Her heart throbbed to be holding two noble warriors in her palm, her fingers curled around them to further dwarf their diminished sizes. She watched as the duo scurried to one another, their sprint across her hand felt as minuscule prods along her skin until they met into a despairing embrace. Both heads cocked up at Tharja as her laughter crippled whatever hope they had left, “You two… You belong to me…! You can’t very well disagree with me, not while you sit in my hand, heh-heh…”