Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

XXX

Henrietta knew that it was in all likelihood quite foolish indeed of her, but that didn't change her decision.

The floating castle 'Aincrad' and its monster-infestation was the closest thing to a front-line that Tristain's current crisis had. Magic and blood and swords, that's what the reports unanimously agreed on as her soldiers lent what aid they could to the people under siege, whilst still trying to keep the flying monsters contained within the enormous castle.

There were children there, and nobody was sure what to do with them. On the one hand, the children needed to be protected – everyone agreed on that – but on the other hand, the citizens of Aincrad had no reason to trust Tristain to actually protect them. Considering how close they'd come to being overrun in the beginning, everyone were reluctant to allow them to remain within the floating castle, but at the same time they couldn't leave as there was no safer place to retreat to.

It irked Henrietta that her country was not even trusted with the caring of the children from a civilization on the brink of destruction, even if she could grudgingly admit that they might have good reason to be wary of any offer she might make.

The people of Aincrad had never seen magic before her soldiers arrived, stemming from lands so far away that they'd never seen even a glimpse of the Founder's favor, but they'd been betrayed by this madman 'Kayaba' once before, and were loathe to trust again.

The reports stated time and again that the people was a powder-keg waiting to go off. Too much desperation, too many hopes suddenly snatched away, too many lingering scars of separation from the families and loved ones that they'd left behind two years ago. They were stressed to the point of breaking, a front-line stocked with green soldiers that had been forced to sink or swim, several thousand people with more emotional scarring than longtime war-veterans.

There was no doubt in anyone's mind that they were teetering on the edge, just one moment away from giving in and simply breaking down completely.

All signs pointed to having someone of any importance whatsoever arriving in Aincrad to be an absolutely fantastically foolish idea. But that didn't change that that was exactly what Henrietta was going to do.

She needed to see with her own eyes what was happening, she needed to show to these people that Tristain wanted to help, that she wanted to help. She couldn't allow this to become the slaughter that it had such potential for devolving into.

She needed to help these people, because even if her future role as queen would not let her sacrifice her own people for the sake of another, there was a disturbingly logical part of her pointing out that she could use a few extra soldiers to bolster Tristain's ranks. Especially soldiers with such obvious talent and experience in fighting monsters.

The possibility of having a floating fortress from which to harass Albion's forces should the Reconquista prove victorious... well, that was another voice in her head that she honestly hoped would never have to be spoken out loud.

XXX

Kayaba was dead.

That was a phrase that none of them dared mention. They'd seen it, they'd heard it, they'd known it. But that was a phrase that none of them would ever dare speak.

Kayaba was dead. He'd died protecting them, he'd died sacrificing himself, he'd died killing an advancing Floor Boss on his lonesome. He'd died buying them time for an evacuation.

The players mourned his death, the noble knight who'd once seemed invincible, who'd likely go down in history for his unselfish bravery in this latest horror they'd all been exposed to. They mourned him for he'd carried the name of 'Heathcliff'.

Kayaba was dead, and the players unknowingly mourned the loss.

Kayaba was dead, and none could ever learn of his final words, the words that he'd spoken with Heathcliff's lips. None could know because they needed someone to blame, and they needed someone to admire.

Kayaba was dead, and the few people who knew would keep their mouth forever sealed. Even as they could never again truly speak Heathcliff's name in awe.

Asuna «The Flash» was now in charge of the Knights of the Blood. And Kirito «The Black Swordsman» was now unquestionably the strongest player alive, as his only known 'rival' for the title was no more.

Perhaps it spoke of how desperate they all were, that nobody even really batted an eye upon seeing Kirito unveiling the dual-wielding skill that he'd warily kept hidden for so long. Everyone were too busy trying to break the siege of the attacking monsters to ever really have time to point fingers.

This was the Aincrad that Princess Henrietta of Tristain arrived to.

XXX

She'd been forewarned, true, but nothing could've truly prepared her for seeing one of the golems that the people of Aincrad called 'NPCs' with her own two eyes.

They looked like dolls, except not really. Not like the mechanical alviss did. There was the impossibly perfect skin of a doll, there was the eerily empty gaze of a doll, but it was just somehow too close to being a human than what could be ignored.

Had she perhaps been more prone to superstition, Henrietta was certain that she would've reacted in a potentially offensive manner. As it was, she flinched and she kept a wary eye on them at all times.

The people of Aincrad didn't seem to mind, and Henrietta had the peculiar impression that – had they not long since grown used to the golems' presence – they considered her unease to be a perfectly sensible course of action.

The citizens themselves were an eclectic bunch as well. She didn't see much of the children hidden away and kept safe during the siege, but even so there were a great diversity in ages. No, perhaps that was untrue. Many of the ones present looked barely old enough to graduate from the Academy of Magic. And yet they'd already been fighting for two years.

She'd known to expect youth amongst these people, but the sight of a woman her own age dressed in armor and being referred to as the leader of one of the biggest 'front-line guilds' had still come as a bit of a shock.

Though it made an often-neglected part of her romantic heart curiously intrigued upon realizing that the dark-clad boy that would sometimes appear at her side was in all likelihood more than a simple 'friend'. The two youths looked good together, easily leaning into each other's presence without much conscious thought.

It would've been sweet had she not seen the dark circles around their eyes, or the exhaustion that sometimes caused their hands to tremble.

This was a war-zone, and these were two youths in love. A recipe for misery had there ever been one, Henrietta reflected bitterly. It reminded her a bit too much of the man she herself had secretly sworn her heart to, and the distance and dangers currently forcing them apart.

Hearing that the boy in question was considered the 'strongest' swordsman in Aincrad just made it more unsettling. Was not war meant for adults? Why must it then be the youths and children who suffer through it?

Asuna, the Flash; Kirito, the Black Swordsman. Titles gained from their abilities, even if some muttered darkly about the boy, a single word slipping past their lips as if it was a curse. 'Beater'. Perhaps a secondary and less flattering title, perhaps something more, Henrietta didn't know enough to understand for sure.

Either way, it was a word never mentioned by the people from the 'front-lines', and perhaps that pointed towards some modicum of respect? Henrietta knew enough that it would likely be quite rude indeed to go digging into it, and in the end a bit of caustic name-calling was largely irrelevant to her reason for being there.

She was there to help the citizens of Aincrad break the siege, and to remove the monsters that were plaguing her country. Nothing more, and nothing less.

XXX

By the time of her arrival, the defenders were down to ten Floors all of which were still classified as being the 'front-line', though the bottom four had been cleared from anything not flight-capable long before Tristain had lent them aid. The problem that had persisted in clearing the rest from all of the attacking monsters – oddly referred to as 'mobs' by the populace – was that the stairs between Floors were not exactly suited for fortifications.

Too open, and too easily ambushed. And even if some of the stronger monsters appeared perfectly willing to linger on their 'assigned' Floors, quite a large number of them were trying to move downwards.

Seeing mobs from the fifty-first Floor on the sixth was not unusual, and the people of Aincrad didn't really have the manpower to properly defend across such a large front.

But with Henrietta's troops came magic, and with magic came earth-mages. It was really only a matter of time before they managed to completely secure the stairs between Floors by raising a fortress at the top of it, even if it depleted said earth-mages' willpower for the close future.

On top of that, with Tristain's – meager, but not completely nonexistent – navy circling Aincrad and shooting down all the flying monsters trying to get around their defenses or escape, there was no longer any need for Aincrad's 'Clearers' to spread themselves out. Allowing them instead to focus all of their attention on defending a single Floor from the advancing monsters.

Henrietta could admit to feeling both a little impressed, and a little intimidated, at exactly how efficiently they made use of that advantage.

Aincrad didn't have mages, they simply had swordsmen and swordsmen and even more swordsmen. There were some variations of course, with some using pikes or halberds or axes or a great deal of many different types of swords, but swordsmen were prevalent. And yet, despite not having the blessings of the Founder on their side, they were beginning to push the mobs back all on their lonesome.

The more she watched, the more it became obvious that they needed Tristain for the fortifications they could provide to the stairs between Floors, and they needed them for the navy keeping the flight-capable monsters in check, but they most certainly didn't need their help when it simply came to 'killing monsters'.

Horrifying beasts that would've taken a group of mages to defeat were at times brought down by a single swordsman. And it was terrifying.

This was a people that knew nothing of the words of Brimir, and spoke not a word of religion of any sort. It was the kind of thing that the Church wouldn't have hesitated in squashing through force at first opportunity. So Henrietta shouldn't be getting too close to them in preparation for what was likely going to be quite a political scandal, except she needed their assistance to rid her land of the monsters, and she desperately wanted the useful foothold of a flying fortress in the upcoming war against the Reconquista – because Tristain was too tempting a target for her to ever assume that there wouldn't be a war, sooner or later.

She needed them, and they were powerful enough that she wasn't sure that her armies could subdue them. Not to mention that she didn't actually want to rid herself of these innocent victims that she couldn't help but pity, or the fact that the calculating part of her heart was very much looking forward to seeing these swordsmen being set loose on those traitorous Reconquista dogs.

A conundrum, where they needed her a lot less than she'd originally been anticipating, and their worth to her as allies suddenly skyrocketed.

Still, they'd reached the eleventh Floor now. Only ninety Floors left to clear.

XXX

Karin wasn't entirely certain how to deal with her youngest daughter.

The girl had finally – after nearly a week of visibly bleak moods – begun pulling her life back together. Except she still couldn't do magic, and it was rather painfully obvious that she had no idea what to do about things.

The only respite from this rather uncomfortable situation was the strange almost-gryphon Louise had ridden to the estate and its peculiar willingness to remain in the area. Or rather, the way that it seemed to have taken a liking to Louise, enough so that it was unwilling to leave said area.

Had the atmosphere of the estate been more... 'normal' than it currently was, with how most of the Valliere family all found themselves walking on eggshells – some more blatantly than others – then Cattleya would've likely been quite jealous that her younger sister had managed to befriend an animal that only begrudgingly accepted her own presence.

Gentle though the girl might be, she'd always had a strange fascination with domesticating predators. And now it was Louise doing it instead.

Unfortunately, Cattleya had always worn her heart on her sleeves, and it was obvious to anyone paying attention that the reason why she wasn't jealous was because she was still properly horrified about Louise being expelled from the Academy. Which meant that Louise had taken to not-quite avoiding her beloved older sister in an attempt to not be reminded of exactly why she wasn't currently in school.

There was a distinctly awkward feel to the air of the Valliere estate, even if Louise seemed to finally be accepting that she most definitely had a place under their roof. Magic or no.

Though Karin was still quite skeptical to as to how a girl who exploded everything she pointed her wand at could possibly be classified as not having any magic whatsoever. Not that she was going to be mentioning that until Louise reached the point where giving her hope might not cause her to throw herself off a tower or some overly emotional nonsense like that.

Bloody teenagers and their bloody drama.

XXX

Henrietta had a problem.

Albion was coming closer to falling by the day, and the Reconquista would take any opportunity to break the potential alliance between Tristain and Germania in order to leave them easy prey. The alliance that was founded on a potential marriage.

The more thought she put into that particular situation – and she generally tried not to pay any attention to it whatsoever, because she didn't want to think about Wales dying in battle and herself marrying some barbarian emperor – the more she was coming to the conclusion that Wales – the wonderful romantic fool – had probably saved her letter.

The letter where she spoke of love and promises. The letter that would definitely make Germania turn their backs on her country should they ever learn of it. The letter that would very soon likely be in the grasp of Reconquista.

She needed to remove that letter from Albion.

The problem arose in how to do it. She couldn't send someone she didn't trust on such a mission of utmost importance. At the same time, she couldn't send anyone who could be linked back to her on such a mission, lest rumors begin to crop up wondering for what reason she was trying to contact Albion's prince.

No, she needed someone she could trust, who wouldn't be missed, wouldn't fail in their task, and wouldn't implicate her if they failed.

It was a shame that she didn't have anyone like that. Certainly, she had Agnes who could be trusted and who'd complete the task without fail, but the woman was her personal bodyguard and would make Henrietta's involvement in matters far too blatantly obvious to anyone curious. And she supposed that she had Louise – mischievous little daredevil that she'd been in their childhoods – whom she trusted and wouldn't be missed, but Henrietta knew far too well that there had been a substantial amount of rumors about a great deal of problems for the youngest Valliere in the area of the 'practical implementation of magic'.

Henrietta wasn't sure if she was pleased or frustrated at the realization that she couldn't send her childhood friend into a war-zone. On the one hand, it meant that the Reconquista was likely to be able to break any alliance that might've served to protect Tristain from their inevitable invasion, but on the other she didn't want to send small and adorable little Louise into a war-zone.

No, she'd have to find another way.

She couldn't ask anyone she'd trust to bring a message in her name. So it stood to reason that she'd have to find someone she didn't trust. Or something at any rate.

There were ways to send messages across large distances, and even if it was likely to be intercepted, if she sent enough of them one or two should be able to make it through the Reconquista dogs and their heretical siege.

"Wales, I'm sorry. It is the will of my people. Burn it. - Henrietta."

It was as non-incriminating as she could make it whilst still hopefully making it obvious to him of what she was speaking.

She could only hope that the letter would reach him in time.

She'd rather marry one of non-magical citizens of Aincrad than a barbarian emperor, but she was the Crown Princess, soon to be Queen. She would do as her country demanded of her, as was her duty.

XXX

There had been a great deal of confusion when Tristain's navy had first appeared around Aincrad. Partly because sailing-ships weren't supposed to be able to fly, and partly because the players had been trapped on their lonesome and the news of an entirely separate group of people making an appearance was taken with at least a few grains of salt.

Then there'd been the magic. The way that these people could raise an entire fortress out of the ground in less than a day. The way these mages could throw fire and water and ice and wind lightning and who-knows-what-else.

Then there'd been the culture-shock. The soldiers praying to some mythical 'Founder' that once walked the earth and granted the nobles their magic. The way they reacted to NPCs with outright horror instead of the mild unease that most other felt for them after Aincrad's transition to this new place.

Barely a week into first beginning to receive aid, and a historian stepped up to point out that it would likely be a very bad idea to argue theology with these people. Since apparently religions throughout history had all had an unfortunate tendency to hold onto its worshipers with violence, and a Church that had remained undivided for six-thousand years likely only survived to that age by being very enthusiastic about dealing with dissenters. Lethally enthusiastic.

No, there'd been a very clear warning passed around throughout Aincrad to not mention religion in the presence of the people from Tristain. There was really no need to call down some kind of inquisition on their heads if they could avoid it, after all.

Still, the flying navy and the fortress-building mages were a great help in their continued war against the mobs bearing down on them.

There were some questions raised to whether or not they should even bother fighting to keep Aincrad, seeing as most had some rather bad memories of the place and would've probably enjoyed starting anew anywhere else. On the other hand, nobody knew whether or not this overly-enthusiastic Church of theirs would decide that they were all subhuman or something and try and burn them at the stake.

Nobody wanted to take that chance, and Aincrad was a fairly defensible position, even if they'd need to figure out a way to build a few of those flying ships of their own, if they wanted to actually defend it from an invading army.

Then the Crown Princess Henrietta of Tristain made an appearance, and the guild-leaders got their first look at the magical royalty of this strange world. And it was definitely a new world, a world filled with people. Not NPCs, but actual people.

By then most were actually starting to get a bit relieved at how Aincrad had ended up being explained as having been pretty much unchanged since the beginning of their imprisonment at Kayaba's hands. Nobody really wanted to try explaining the concept of 'video games' to a bunch of religious people who may or may not be looking for any kind of reason whatsoever to lit them on fire and cheer as they died.

The historian's original explanations had gotten pretty damn vivid after a certain amount of retellings.

If Kirito and most of the other Clearers hadn't grown so used to being thrown curve-balls at various intervals – as in, whenever Kayaba's game-engine decided that they were progressing too easily – they would've probably been a lot more uncomfortable with the situation than they were.

As it was, things were almost beginning to return to some semblance of normalcy. Only with a lot more blood and gore, and magic, and quite a number of people losing their lunches, or losing their lives.

Kirito had gotten pretty good at compartmentalizing over the years, and Klein even managed to crack jokes. With the exception of Asuna now being in charge of the «Knights of the Blood» and the aforementioned newly enhanced combat-patches that'd been released upon the players, things were meandering along in a distinctly familiar pattern.

Climb to the next Floor, kill all the mobs, climb to the next Floor, kill all the mobs. Why, it was almost nostalgic sometimes.

Asuna didn't seem to much agree with him on that point, and her new position of responsibility made her unfortunately disinclined to taking comfortable naps in the sunlight, but cooking had always been the girl's way of winding down after a long day so at least Kirito still managed to score some amazing lunches. As long as he managed to trigger the quest-flags for spending some time together with her.

Life was pretty comfortable. If one completely ignored the high risk of death, the way blood was really difficult to wash out of clothing, the complications when dealing with natural healing, the way it could take some people hours of gruesome torture before they died from their wounds, the backbreaking work of digging graves for the corpses of old friends, along with the general annoyance of having to carry things around outside of the game-menu.

You know, small things.

Otherwise, life was just peachy.

XXX

Karin wasn't entirely certain if she ought to be annoyed or intrigued at the way the almost-gryphon had led others of its kind to their estate.

By now, there were almost a dozen of them, and yet the news of monster-attacks were actually beginning to taper off in the area. Her youngest daughter was taming the monsters that had been plaguing Tristain for over a month now.

On the one hand, it was impressive. Both as a proof of her abilities, but also in how she'd managed to turn an enemy into a potential future resource. On the other hand, it was possible that Louise's taming of the almost-gryphons would create some unpleasant political ramifications.

After all, nobody trusted something they didn't understand, and beast-like though they were there was a spark of intelligence in their eyes. Who was to say that they would not turn on them at an inadvertent time?

There was a reason why Karin had grown so fond of the phrase 'the only good enemy is a dead enemy'.

Still, the flock of almost-gryphons was keeping her daughter busy. And she rather desperately needed that, considering just how fragile her mental and emotional state remained. She would certainly recover in due time, but the best way to actually allow for time to make a difference was to fill it with something that she could actually do.

Karin counted almost a dozen almost-gryphons lingering on the Valliere lands. She suspected that it would grow larger yet in the close future.

And that wasn't even considering the possibility of the beasts beginning to nest.

Karin sipped her tea. It would be interesting to see how the military climate of Halkeginia might change should the Valliere family suddenly find themselves with enough almost-gryphons that they could field a decent military force riding them.

It would at the very least come in handy in the assured future conflict with the Reconquista and their navy.

XXX

Albion had fallen.

Henrietta wasn't sure if she was furious or resigned or shocked or simply despairing. She felt numb.

Wales was dead. Gone. Killed.

Albion had fallen and the Reconquista were by all accounts carefully biding their time, not wanting to begin their inevitable invasion of their neighboring countries until they wouldn't have to risk dealing with Tristain's current monster-infestation with their own manpower.

Albion had fallen, and Wales was dead. Dead and forever out of her reach. Dead and completely unable to burst into the church halls at the last moment and steal her away from her coming marriage to the barbarian emperor.

Wales was dead.

For the first time since her arrival, and despite the wishes of her advisors, for the first time since arriving in Aincrad to aid in the removal of the monsters, Crown Princess Henrietta of Tristain personally marched into battle.

The monsters had really had some fantastic timing, why, right there was one of those 'Floor Bosses'. From what was being said it seemed to have originated from the seventy-third Floor. One Floor above the one whom that heroic Heathcliff had managed to defeat at the cost of his own life.

How wonderfully convenient.

Henrietta had really been looking forward to a bit of violence today.

XXX

"Guess that's why she's in charge." Kirito commented, mouth dry.

Asuna made a sound which was probably agreement.

The Floor Boss was being slowly grounded to death by a gigantic tornado of water.

It was almost enough to make them feel just the tiny little bit pitying of the monster.

Kirito had heard that one of Tristain's neighboring countries had fallen to revolutionaries. An old ally, likely meaning that she had some personal attachment to the royal family of the place. The royal family which had of course either died in battle or been executed by whoever was in charge now.

Yeah, Kirito could imagine why something like that could make someone a bit enthusiastic about resorting to violence. He still remembered what he'd been like after Sachi, and back then he'd come disturbingly close to lashing out at Klein with lethal intent. Too desperate for the unlikely hope of the reward that the Event-Boss had been said to drop to even consider that trying to solo it could've so very easily landed him with the title of 'suicidal'.

He remembered what he'd looked like in the mirror back then, and – watching the Crown Princess now – Kirito hoped that he would never have to see that kind of expression on anyone's face again.

Even if this particular beat-down was kind of terrifyingly effective.

XXX

By the time they managed to reach the fiftieth Floor, there wasn't a lot left of the mobs that tried to lay siege to Aincrad. Or rather, that statement had already been true once they'd reached the twentieth Floor and the original siege had been well and truly broken, leaving the remaining mobs to fight on the defensive.

Perhaps more accurately was that once they'd reached the fiftieth Floor there were only six Bosses left to defeat – unless there was one hidden away on the hundredth Floor, nobody were entirely sure on that account – and all of them seemed to have hidden themselves away in labyrinthine cave-systems on the upper Floors, rather than attempt to fight the Clearers head-on.

Some of the defeated ones had been terrifying on their lonesome, some had surrounded themselves with armies, some had attacked, some had constructed unsettlingly cunning ambushes, and some had simply fortified their position to the point where they'd needed an entire squadron of mages to root it out enough that the rest of them could actually fight it.

Kirito forever solidified his title as 'the strongest swordsman' after near-soloing one of the Bosses – the extent of which he'd done it 'alone' varied depending on who told the story. Asuna somehow ended up finding an engagement ring at some point. Quite a large amount of people got very nervous about two of their most prominent fighters hooking up – and the potential culture-clashes in regards to however marriage worked in Halkeginia. And Henrietta was sincerely considered by all who knew her to be a warrior-queen in-the-making – despite her advisors continued insistence that she not get involved in the actual battles.

It was also during the clearing of the fiftieth Floor that the Reconquista finally made their move.

By attacking Germania.

It'd come as a shock to everyone, because the revolutionaries were horribly outgunned against Germania's forces, but apparently they still didn't want to deal with clearing Aincrad themselves when they could simply swoop in later and conquer Tristain when its armies were already exhausted from doing that very thing.

Still, the reason for attacking at all quickly became apparent when word started to spread about what the conditions for living under the Reconquista's rule were truly like.

Starvation, abuse of power, corruption, theft, bandits. The list went on and on, and the only way which Albion could really justify its treatment of its own subjects – which was quite necessary in order to remain in good standing amongst the commoners whom they relied so thoroughly upon – was to find someone to declare war on, because everyone knew that such conditions were to expected in war-times. And with Tristain's recently acquired uncomfortable monster-problem, Germania was apparently the only option that made sense.

Which actually rather blatantly proved who'd been funding the Reconquista's war in Albion. 'The Mad King of Gallia' indeed.

With fifty Floors down, and fifty Floors to go, Tristain very pointedly didn't say much of anything about Aincrad and its citizens to Romalia and the Church.

XXX

Henrietta wasn't sure what to make of the reports of what was happening at the Valliere estate. Specifically, what the reports were saying in regards to the monsters that had apparently completely stopped ravaging Tristain's countryside.

She was glad to hear that she wouldn't have to spend precious manpower trying to defend against an enemy with greater mobility than any common-born soldier could ever manage, she was glad to hear that a threat to her subjects had been dealt with. She was completely blindsided by the actual reasons stated in the report however.

Little Louise was taming them.

Oh, it didn't actually say that. It was saying that the Valliere lands were almost entirely overrun by the monsters, but that they were being fed and cared for and seemed quite peaceful about their presence there. It was also pointing out that it had apparently begun when the youngest daughter had 'ridden one home', though exactly why little Louise wasn't at the Academy was never mentioned or even hinted at.

Henrietta had a bad feeling about that.

On the other hand, it was good to see that her old friend was finding her own place in the world, even if Henrietta was certain that some very crude individuals might say things that would certainly not bear repeating in decent company. Mostly in regards to how this before unseen ability on her part had not emerged from spells and magic, but was instead based entirely around the taming of mere beasts. It was the kind of crude comments that would likely see someone burned at the stake should it ever be proven true.

However, Henrietta knew her old friend was far too prudish to ever get involved in something like that, so she wasn't feeling overly worried about the matter. Should such words be spoken, there would be more than enough overly violent individuals willing to lend aid in curing the gossipers of their insolently wagging tongues.

No, of much more importance was the actual fact that these monsters actually could be tamed. Something which she doubted the citizens of Aincrad had ever even truly considered. Certainly not in regards to actual dangerous 'mobs' in any case.

Still, that meant that perhaps there was a good cause to avoid completely wiping the various species out of existence, but it didn't change much for the actual situation of Aincrad's front-line.

Men and women fought and died, mages succumbed to willpower-exhaustion, gunpowder ran dry, and sails were torn to shreds. The war continued, one Floor at a time.

XXX

XXX

XXX Epilogue XXX

XXX

The rush of air was the same as always, the same as it'd been even when she'd been a child and her mother had taken her with her on her flights. It was the same, but it never stopped bringing a smile to Louise's face.

Every time it was a reassurance, every time was a wonderful rush of the vicious satisfaction of knowing that she wasn't a zero, no matter what her academical records might showcase.

Her spells still exploded, magic seemed to forever remain out of her reach, but she was a Valliere, and nobody could ever take that away from her. She was the youngest of three sisters, and she was an old childhood playmate of the Crown Princess that had recently become Queen.

And, perhaps most importantly, she was the person the almost-gryphons listened to when orders were being shouted. There'd been much talk over what to name the many strange beasts of Aincrad currently occupying the lands of the Valliere family, but none had ever really struck Louise as particularly important ones to remember. In the end, the almost-gryphons were what they were, and everyone who knew anything at all about them knew that they were hers.

Hundreds of wings beating the air as the rest of the flock took to the air behind her, Louise briefly entertained the thought of what her 'runic name' could end up being, because surely no enemy of Tristain could watch a force of a hundred flying monsters attack in formation at her command, and classify her existence too unimportant for a monicker to be added to her name.

It might never be a true kind of runic name, seeing as it would not be based on her proficiency with magic, but there was a certain ecstatic anticipation of finding a way to forever shed that accursed 'zero' from her name.

Germania had won, their defenses proving too powerful for the Reconquista's armies to break through. But even if Germania might've perhaps had them before the war began, by the time the retreat was sounded, they no longer had the ships to launch a counterattack with. They could defend against the revolutionaries without issue, but they were unable to attack them in turn.

A stalemate, even if Germania was the clear victor of the conflict. The Reconquista had retreated with barely a fraction of what they had started with, and Germania was merely inconvenienced.

No, those heretical revolutionaries were hidden away on their floating island, sullenly licking their wounds.

Tristain remained untouched, and there were rumors spreading they were already searching for the final flight of stairs between Aincrad's Floors.

Soon, that conflict too would come to an end, and then there'd been some very interesting talk of Louise being given a regiment all to herself, leaving her in charge of as many soldiers as she could convince into learning how to ride the beasts of her flock.

Oh yes, Louise grinned to herself. The reason why she couldn't help but smile every time she took to the air was that the rush of wind on her face and the sound of beating wings tasted like victory.

XXX

The hundredth Floor was empty.

There was no village that could've substituted for a Safe Zone back in the day, there were no great forests that could've hidden mobs, there were no lakes or desserts or marshes or mountains or grasslands.

It was just an empty room. Gigantic, the size of a cathedral, and completely empty.

It reminded Kirito more of a Boss Room than it did of anything else. And yes, right there, in the middle of it all stood one single thing.

A throne. A large one, big enough that its backrest along with the pedestal it was on, all but dominated the room.

And yet its actual seat was clearly designed for something the size of a human.

It took Kirito a moment to register that, to comprehend what that meant, and then he understood.

Had this been the game, had this still been SAO, a single person would've broken off from the Clearing group now. He would've walked forward with calm steps, and then, just before the throne, he would've turned towards them.

And, smiling like a benevolent king, he would've betrayed them all.

A masterpiece. An exquisite story of hope and betrayal and friends turning on each other with hate and murder. That was what he had been aiming to create with this moment.

This wasn't the game though. SAO had long since been abandoned for a reality that should never have been their own. So, instead of a knight clad in white and red, Kirito was the one who stepped forward.

Because he understood, and from the wary confusion on the faces of all the ones present, he was the only one.

The sound of his footsteps echoed across the immense room as he climbed the small pedestal to the throne. Then he unsheathed his sword, and with all his power, he buried it into the seat with a sound much akin to nails on a chalkboard.

A dark throne, and a bright sword buried almost to the hilt in its seat. The material of the throne something that Kirito would've probably classified as either 'stone' or 'weak metal'.

It was a statement, a curse, a refusal of the position that this final Floor of Kayaba's taunted them with. The cruel knowledge that he'd been there all along, watching them, toying with them, mocking them, and that in the end they would've only been freed of his prison at his leisure. Never simply their own abilities.

A throne that nobody would ever sit in, because of the sword that Kirito had just defiantly plunged into its seat.

He might've once been something like a god, in SAO, but in this world, in this reality, Kayaba had merely been a human suddenly forced to live the role of another or be killed by the humans he'd so heartlessly sacrificed to his own ambition.

Kayaba Akihiko had died wearing the face of a stranger, and his throne would be forever spat upon by all who ventured to the final Floor of Aincrad.

When he turned back, and returned to the others at the entrance, none of them commented on the tear-tracks across his cheeks.

Most of them didn't understand, but they didn't need to truly know the story of Heathcliff to make their own connection to finding a single throne at the end of their journey. They saw, and they hated the mockery that Kayaba would've made of their suffering and their sacrifices.

Asuna took his hand in her own, the metal band's distinct texture against his skin as their fingers intertwined. She was crying too.

This was their freedom. Their final freedom.

And forever divorced from their own reality, their victory tasted like despair.

XXX

It was strange, how in their moment of victory, Aincrad's morale fell like a rock.

Or, well, it would've been strange without knowing the story behind it.

They'd been trapped in Aincrad by a heretical madman who'd promised them that they'd be able to return to their families. Who'd told them that he'd left a way to return back home on the final Floor.

After their arrival in Tristain and the erratic behavior of the beasts within the floating castle, everyone had known that that path back home had disappeared from them. They'd known that there was no way to get back to their loved ones. But then the siege had happened and everyone had been too busy scrambling to survive to stop and actually think about what it meant. And even when that siege broke, it was a return to the norm in how the Clearers continued to fight their way past Floor after Floor.

But now that was finished. Aincrad had been Cleared, and yet they had no way to get back home.

For the first time since their arrival, people started to understand what that meant.

Henrietta carefully pulled her soldiers away from more populated areas, allowing them to celebrate the victory for what it was, without offending the despairing people who were only now beginning to truly comprehend that they would never see their families again. That they were still trapped within Aincrad's walls.

Certainly, they could hitch a ride on one of the ships down to Tristain, but it was obvious to anyone who paid attention that their cultures were different, that the people of Aincrad didn't really understand nobility, or believe that a society ruled by magic was the only thing that made sense.

They weren't the Reconquista, and they were keeping their opinions carefully to themselves, but it was plain to see if one knew where to look.

The people of Aincrad might be able to leave their floating castle, but Tristain most definitely wasn't their home, and so what had previously been a physical trap had now become one of culture and traditions. They could leave, but they came from a country so far away that none of Halkeginia could imagine it, let alone find a way to transport them back there. Aincrad was their home now, even if it was their prison, and without any way to return to their own country, the mood was rapidly plummeting.

Aincrad was a nation in mourning.

Except, then the leader of the Knights of the Blood sent out a message for everyone to gather on the first Floor.

And Henrietta watched curiously as the young woman climbed up on an improvised stage.

"My brother should've been here instead. But he let me go in his stead, because he had things to do." Her voice sounded clear across the crowd, even as it was rather obviously an emotional thing for her to say. "I was trapped. Just like we were all trapped. And now I can never see him again."

There was a long moment of silence, as she took a deep breath.

"Everyone here has lost someone. Some of us have lost more than others, but we've all lost something. We might never get over it, it might always linger. But they're alive and well! They will live! They will mourn! And then they will be happy!" Asuna glared out at the crowd, almost daring anyone to contradict her. "To us, let that be our closure! That they will live! We might never see them again! We might never find a way back home! But they're alive! Let that be enough!"

There were murmurs amidst the crowd, some agreeing, others disagreeing.

"They're alive. We're alive. It hurts. But we're alive! And the people around you are alive as well!" Asuna took a deep breath, and placed her hand on her stomach. Then she suddenly flushed from some odd mixture of embarrassment and some other emotion, rather visibly fumbling for words. "And I don't want my child to grow up surrounded by gloomy faces!"

Henrietta boggled.

Asuna couldn't be much older than her, and yet-...? Yes, that hand over her stomach, the way her equally young husband shifted in guilty embarrassment. Asuna 'The Flash' was pregnant.

There was silence, as more than one person outright gaped at the young woman, but then Klein raised his voice with obvious glee. "Kirito, you sly dog you!" And just like that, pandemonium erupted.

In hindsight, Henrietta should probably have been more surprised that it'd taken the citizens of Aincrad nearly three years of imprisonment before anyone managed to get knocked-up, than she was surprised at the young couple apparently being on their way to parenthood.

But that didn't make the huge shift in mood amongst the people gathered on the giant square of the first Floor any less exhilarating.

They might've been a nation in mourning, but they were also one suddenly struck with the need to celebrate new beginnings. Something which was clearly being egged on by the opportunity to poke fun at Asuna's husband and his inability to 'keep it in his pants'.

Henrietta stared out over the gathered crowd, and she wondered to herself where the floating castle, Aincrad, would go from here.

Shaking her head a little, Henrietta decided that wherever their paths led them, that she'd try to keep them away from causing any offense to Romalia and the Church of the Founder. She liked these people and their slightly bizarre culture.

They were good people.

XXX

A/n: Yup, it ends here. Kind of abrupt, and without delving too deeply into the characters of SAO, but it's in a place that I feel comfortable with ending it in. After all, this isn't so much a story of Kirito and the gang as it is a story of how the kingdom of Aincrad became a part of Halkeginia.

As a side-note (since I myself had to look it up when writing this fic in order to dodge her complicated existence) I'll say this now. In SAO-canon, Yui shows up after the defeat of the 74th Floor Boss. In this fic the transition occurs closely after the defeat of the 71st Floor Boss. In other words, Yui has no presence in this fic and would never appear in the world. I'm not entirely happy about doing that to her (I was always quite fond of her character), but I'm not even remotely willing to try and explore the semi-philosophical NPC/person argument with her as a focal point in the middle of the rest of this whole mess.

As for Kayaba, the poetic justice of his situation was finally decided upon after tearing my hair out over how Aincrad would react to him being executed by the Church for heresy or something (should they ever have found out who he was). This decision was made mainly an attempt to avoid a culture-clash between the modern world and Halkeginia's view of rightful punishments.

Thank you for reading, and an extra thanks to those who've left reviews.