Night came fairly quickly thereafter, and Lincoln, dressed in quite the fancy dress with a clean cut look, while giving off a two-dollar prize-winning grin, walked casually through the town of Royal Acres for the annual Wickers festival.

The Wickers festival was an annual thing, entering its 104th anniversary ever since the founding of the town, which started out as a settlement made up of travelers, led by Nigel Wickers. It was thanks to him that Royal Acres stood firmly on earth to begin with, growing and flourishing even after the original founders have long since passed.

The festival itself was not only to commemorate Nigel Wickers, but the entire settlers as well. All sixteen of them were equally valued and praised to this day, but from the history, even those other fifteen other hailed Wickers for it all, hence the name of the festival. Only three families in town were connected to the bloodline of the original settlers.

Those were the Prescotts, the Mercers, and the Sweetwaters.

The Prescotts were a family of three, consisting of Richard Prescott, a humble locksmith, Amanda Prescott, formerly Sterling, the stay-at-home wife, and little Leia Prescott, their young twelve-year-old daughter who developed a knack for fashion, having learned at an early age to sew and design clothes, specifically for women and girls.

The Mercer family, as a collective, participated in the same career, which was construction. James Mercer had a business up and running, with his own men. But his wife, who wanted to be out there helping her strong husband, helped out as much as she was physically able to. Brittany Mercer gained some degree of muscle, but was then known as a tomboy by the other women, and considered to be a misplaced wife by some acquaintances within the Mercer business. Of course, James had serious strength and willpower to defend his wife, should it ever come to that. They had a daughter known as Lissandra, but was nicknamed Lisy later on. Lissandra followed in their footsteps somewhat, but had come across a friendly lizard, and from there, she knew what she wanted to be, as odd at it would sound to all whom she would tell.

And last but not least, there was the Sweetwater clan. Lincoln had met this family once before, but could not recall all too well. They were a family of redheads, made up of four members. Redheads with quite the pale skin and freckles that marked all over their cheeks. Sterling Sweetwater ran a small store, which he and Ruth, his wife, ran day and night. Their kids Lindsey and Ethan were still young and attended school while the harsh insults of them all being a soul-less bunch kept racing within the small school.

Now, Lincoln had only met the Sweetwaters out of the three bloodlines, and had gradually noticed that Sterling and Ruth looked so much identical. Maybe that was just him, and it had been so long since seeing them. Even now, he still could not recall where he had seen them last.

Here he was, making his way into the forming crowds. Countless gentleman with or without top hats, dressed just as handsomely as he was, moved closer into the center, most of them being accompanied by their special ladies whom were locked into either their left or right arm, head resting on shoulder. Lamps hanging on rope that hung tightly between many of the buildings and abpve everyone made it just as astonishing as the revealing street performers. There was a female clown who had popped up, starting to play around near a few kids Lincoln hadn't noticed before. Perhaps they were too short, or weren't in the place he looked before hand. The clown handed out balloon animals to the kids as she honked on her round, red nose.

The festival was just as lively as it was last year, full of cheery townsfolk who wanted to have a good time. Not one single soul should have been missing out. Not even him.

"Lincoln, darling!" Shell's lovely voice kept his heart beat elevated at a good rate. He smiled and turned to see her.

"Good evening, miss Cheng," Lincoln humbly greeting, taking the gorgeous woman by her hand. She was intrigued by his gentle touch, and couldn't help but let out a cute giggle, blushing faint red as they had then begun to walk. They locked elbows with each other the way courting couples would and went on their merry way around the cheerful town.

"You'll have to forgive me for arriving tardy," Stella awkwardly excused, performing a gentle curtsy with her Victorian-style white dress.

"Fret not, milady," Lincoln relieved. "For I am but a man who would wait for ages for a woman such as yourself." He had no idea how he sounded like to himself, what with the lack of experience not talking to girls all too much while he grew up. This sounded right, as it seemed to be working. "Where shall we go to first?"

"If it's all the same to you, I'd like to see the bands here."

Lincoln agreed. "But of course!"

They followed the sound of music, coming across a band of three jolly old fellows with violins, playing some up-beat music. Some couples have begun to participate in the dancing, engaging with each other in a synchronized fashion. Stella wanted to dance along as well, driving her to take both of his hands, getting him right into the dance floor. "I hope you know how to."

Lincoln gulped as he was led near the couples. Stella redirected her hands on his shoulders, smiling widely to him. Truthfully, dancing was not one of his strongest suits, but he intended on trying. Based on what he knew, Lincoln applied his hands onto Stella's waist, filling in the lock. They slowed in down, rotating in circles, which was more fit for a romantic setting.

"Um, d-do you-?" Stella began to ask. "Do you know how to?"

"This would happen to be my first time," the young lord revealed. "Would you be so kind as to-?"

Christina slowly devoured a slice of pumpkin pie from afar, having eaten half of it before she looked up and saw Lincoln and Stella engaged. She brought the pie down and looked with curiosity. Stella leaned her head to his ear and whispered something she couldn't make out from the distance. The pie fell out of her hand from trembling, which had come from quite an angry feeling she acquired at the sight of them. Anger, jealous that it wasn't her in Stella's place. It wasn't her being graced by the firm grasp of Lincoln's touch.

What right did she have to come into his life and woo him away?

"Miss?" A random gentleman in a top-dollar tux and a top hat had taken notice of Christina's dropping of her pie. "Are you feeling well?"

She broke away from the over-extended stare and stuttered to speak, forming an excuse as she believed she was caught staring at the couple. "Pardon me?"

The gentleman pointed at her feet. "Um..."

Christina followed his finger and looked down. Her brown slippers had caught the mess made from the dessert, stained heavily as were her feet. "Oh, dear! It...-" She let out a giggle, sounding totally embarrassed. "Silly me!"

The gentleman himself happened to have a white rag in the pockets of his high-end pants, to which he used to kindly wipe away at the mess on her legs. "Let's get you looking spiffy again, miss."

Christina had no words to say, but allowed the thoughtful man to clean her up. She blushed a harder red than she thought possible, and then coughed. "Well, um, y-you'll have to excuse me for this, my good man."

"Oh, tis but a good gesture!" Then, the fair gentleman looked around. "Oh, what's this? Surely you aren't alone on this wonderful occasion?"

Christina's tone of voice transformed into a quiet, sadder one, which she made no effort to hide. "Uh, yes indeed, actually. I am but without a spouse or a partner at this age, so I have had the company of no men at all."

More or less it was a lie, but she didn't count the brief times she had been around with only a few of them. She could never figure out why those never stretched out to a full-fledged connection, as it never went past the wooing stages. It was either her or them who turned the other way, but what made Lincoln a different case from the other men she was interested in was that he had established a friendship and special connection with her. Him, it was him she truly believed as the special man there had ever been in her lonely, young life. It was him she was missing; there was no way his arrival was meaningless, right? She reasoned it like that, finding it sensible and making her feel content like it was back then.

Only, that other woman presented herself as a blockade. The Cheng girl was there, and with him right there, participating in the Wickers festival together, seeming like they were having a good time from what she could tell. She shouldn't have been, but Christina found it bothersome at that, and had some clear feelings of jealousy, normal for a woman who fancied a handsome young man such as him.

It should have been her, was what she genuinely believed.

"Miss?"

Christina had eluded her way from reality and forgot about the gentleman, having gotten too focused on the pair. "Oh, you'll have to excuse my... Erm..." She felt rather silly. "Oh, dear."

"Hm? Is something the matter, miss... Um?"

"Oh!" She cleared her throat and spoke in a firm voice. "Wherever did my manners go? I'm Christina McAlister, current owner of the McAlister Inn."

The fair gentleman nodded back with a funny smile. "Oh, yes, I am aware that you run that place, miss," he responded, taking off his top hat to return the formalities. "I'm Clyde McBride."

Christina firmly shook the kind black man's hand when he held it out. "Very nice to meet you, Clyde," she greeted, noticing that he seemed to be alone. "Oh, are you without a partner as well?"

"Guilty," McBride chuckled lightly. "Not for lack of trying, I'm afraid."

"Oh?" Christina found herself interested at his excuse. "Do tell, good sir!"

Clyde McBride was humbled at her request. "Yes, well," he coughed thoroughly, clearing up his throat. "I have just moved here nearly a week ago, which hasn't been sufficient time to find a companion."

Christina left her mouth open and gave a nod. "Oh, so by that, you mean to say you have already a place to stay?" She figured she could wiggle in a new client.

Clyde was taken aback. "Oh, no, I have already settled into a lovely inn in the center of town."

Christina withdrew her suggestion she'd throw in, and left it at that, retreating to silence as she figured out what to say next. "Oh, um, I see..."

Clyde scratched the back of his head, feeling awkward to have told such a thing to Christina. Basically, he had just said he gave his money to those likely to be competition. He, too, yammered up in awkwardness. "I'd better be going," he excused, strolling away like nothing had happened.

Christina returned a weak smile and flicked her hand, signaling him to kindly get lost. She watched him leave, disappearing within the crowd of townsfolk. She never even expressed her gratitude for his act of kindness. "Uh?" She called out to him a minute too late, and he had been long gone by then. "Oh."

And she then realized she was watching over Lincoln and Stella, both of who were gone from whwrw she'd seen them last. She squinted her eyes to make sure.

"Christina!" Stella gave her quite the starlet, nearly making her jump out of place. "I thought you said you weren't going to show up, did you not say so?"

The chubby redhead shifted her head to see both Stella and Lincoln huddled on her left, showing off their wide, white-perfect smiles, and she found that Lincoln still retained his buck teeth. "Lincoln! Stella! What a nuh-nice surpuh-prise!"

"I could have sworn I heard you say you'd be staying indoors tonight, am I wrong?" Lincoln recalled.

The redhead woman's eyes scattered around the two. "With a miraculous charm, I've concluded all of my chores around the family inn, and just in time to see the festival at its core peak!" With that, she smiled just as greatly as they both did, but made her feel ridiculously angry to have to put up an act. It didn't help that Stella seemed to be enjoying herself in Lincoln's company. She took a deep breath and exhaled, looking almost like she had gotten sick.

"Oh, hey, are you okay?" Lincoln expressed his signature concern, which had never been lost on him. Christina had a mild case of memory lane at the sound of his worried voice.

Of course, she raised a hand and wobbled it side to side. "No, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Stella added in. "It would help if we-"

However shattered she had been, this did the trick and cracked her more. She crumpled her hands into angry, but fragile fists, replying in a monstrous scream. "I said I'm fine!"

It caught the pair by surprise, as shown by their looks of shock and bewilderment. Then, they gave each other concerned looks. Christina hadn't noticed that some onlookers had formed on her behalf, ears snatched by her little outburst. "Christie?" Lincoln grew closer to her, only for her to take a step back and left the two with their stunned looks.

"My word," Stella softly cried out. "What ever in the heavens-?"

"I'd better go see what that was about," Lincoln figured, going after his childhood friend. "Come if you must!"

Stella froze up, but chose to pursue the two while some of the onlookers began to return their minds back to the festival. She ran while holding her dress up to not get it dirty or have a nasty fall while she did so.

Christina fled back to her home field, which was the inn she ran solo, hiding from the rest of the world. It was downright pathetic and sad of her to have broke that way, and embarrassing to have done it in front of them, and in public. It was humiliation on an ungodly scale, and there was no undoing it. She hurt terribly to the point she had begun to cry- And in the presence of the decomposed corpse she once knew as her father, but was still ill enough to talk to it as if it were alive. "Daddy... Did I do something wrong? Is he... Simply not interested in me?"

As usual, the body didn't budge or let alone twitch a muscle, even when she had gotten closer for an answer.

"It's her... She's the one, daddy! She's the one I need to get rid of..." Christina took her time wiping the flowing tears as she sobbed near uncontrollably. "I need her to go away-"

Her own words presented an answer once she heard them come out from her red lips. She had an idea on how to win him over, but maybe she needed to take another route as well; taking care of the thorn on her side. Stella was underneath the very same good Christina manned singlehandedly, meaning she was able to reach out to her and deal some sort of dangerous card from under her sleeves. Somehow and poste haste as well.

Kill. Kill Stella.

If she were to be taken out of the picture, Christina would win and receive the prize that was Lincoln Loud, a sweet soul of a young man who owned a mansion just upstate. She could share his wealth, lay with him, and have children with him, however many he wanted to have. Yes, the wife of a young, rich man sounded like a damn good deal right about now.

Kill Stella to walk on this golden-paved road.

She made up her mind there and then, and her smile formed only after she accepted it and wrapped up her crying.

"Christina?" Lincoln was on the hallway just outside of her room, knocked and turned the knob to enter, but the woman had locked in. "May I come in?"

"Uhhh..." No way she could let him enter, especially not with the corpse on her bed. "I'll be right out in a second!"

Lincoln patiently waited outside, and after a few seconds, Stella had arrived, having taken her time. "This dress was not made to run in!" She groaned out with a scoff. "So, how is she?"

"Uh, she's locked herself inside, it seems," Lincoln informed. "Uh, Christina, are you actually ill or something? If that's the case, I would understand if you need to be alone."

Stella decided to reach out to the innkeeper. "Christina? Did something happen?"

Of course, she stood silent, making footstep noise as she walked around as if she were to be doing something, like changing her clothes.

"Well..." Stella gave Lincoln another concerning look. "If you need to talk to someone, you can come to us. Um... Whatever may have been the problem, I express my-"

Christina decided to come out and play the game. Her tear-streamed eyes faded away, going bacl to a perfect milk tone again. She waa cautious to not reveal too much of the room as she met her two clients. "I just..." She had no real excuse to use except- "I'm sorry, I should not have shouted at you like that."

Stella pressed a hand to her own chest. "It's quite alright, Christina. Just... What led you to do such a thing? Surely something is bothering you, am I wrong?"

"No, not at all," she lied, throwing in a smile. "It's all but well."

They didn't buy it at first, as told by their stern looks that plagued at her comfort. They knew she wasn't being honest, so she had to go the extra mile to debunk their thoughts.

"Why don't we go back out there? How silly of me to have created a bit of a wild goose chase, oh I'm ever so dreadfully sorry" She locked her room and moved past them and began heading out.

"No need for that, Christina! We've all gone out to have a good time, and that's exactly what we're going to do, after all, the Wickers festival comes only annually, does it not?"

"Very well said, Lincoln," Stella charmingly laughed, still sticking to him like glue. "I hope we don't miss out on the fireworks! Those are always the best part of the festival. Christina, you will join us, and I... We won't take no for an answer."

The redhead fliched nervously. "I..."

Without warning, she was picked up by Lincoln, who revealed some serious muscle packed into that skinny body he had. It made the redhead blush uncontrollably, so she concealed her face with both hands as he led the way back into the center of town. "Up and at 'em!"

Never mind, I want to die now! Christina had never asked to feel this embarrassed. "You can put me down, now!"

"Aw, don't tell me you're afraid of heights at this age? Why, you're just as precious as I remember you!" With that, he let out a laugh and looked down at her, to which her eyes widened, sparkling with a greater lustful feeling of butterflies from inside. He called her precious, just literal seconds ago.

"Mmmmf..." She brought her two pinkies together and looked away from his handsome face. "Um..."

And suddenly it felt like a real good time to lean up and kiss his perfect lips, or at the very least to confess that she had begun to stir up some romantic emotions for him. "Hey, Lincy-"

Before she had begun to speak her mind, the most oddly beautiful scenery had transpired just above. The huge moon was right behind Lincoln's head from where she was looking, with the light casting behind him, proving to be a majestic sight. She was able to see his face even as the light hadn't been reflecting frontwards. She saw him and the moon as one and the same, and had lost track of her train of thought. "Hm?" Lincoln was left hanging. "Yes? What is it?"

Christina zoned out from how magical the shot of Lincoln under the moon was. She exhaled, almost as if she had been constipated. "D-dear Lord..."

"Okay, down you go!" Lincoln stated, finally putting the redhead down once they've found themselves back at the festival. "Ah."

"Why, Lincoln, I didn't know you were a strong man," Stella visibly flirted.

"Uh, yeah, I do a lot of carrying around the mansion," he informed. "That and more, never short of any exercise."

"Oh, hehe," Stella went.

It only gave Christina even more motivation to get rid of the competition.

The display of fireworks kicked off soon after, which got everyone to be silent and draw in awe and amazement as the skies were shot heavily and loudly, tearing up the darkness as more and more fireworks races up into the unseen heavens. Lincoln and Stella had indeed gotten lost to the red, blue, and various other colors the entire townsfolk had identified. And no one really noticed that Christina had weaseled her way out of it again.

And when Lincoln would come to see that she was gone a second time, he did disregard it, believing her to have gone to a better spot to watch the spectacle until it was all over.

Somewhere in that spectacle, Stella had made the advancing move that she needed to perform, only not around the presence of the "third wheel"; she turned to Lincoln and plucked a nice, long kiss right onto his lips while a red firework exploded above.

Christina had relocated from her spot, but it wasn't to get a better view; she was far behind, watching them together. Had been for awhile. But this. That. The fucking kiss had really done her in, and if she had any doubts, or any sense of morality that could combat her decision to harm, or mahbe even kill, an innocent person, they dissipated here, right at this very second. Here, and forever. She truly decided that she was going to the lawfully-wedded keeper of Lincoln Loud, the man she loved. All the hatred bred from the flowing jealousy would soon be turned to motivation for her, and very soon would she get it her way. The right way.

The Next Day

The roosters of a farm nearby sang away when the sun rose for another day, settling right over the quiet town of Royal Acres. Lincoln had woken up to the rooster, yawning away as he advanced up. For the most part, he had a good sleep, but his body ached only a little after all that went down yesterday.

For the most part, he did have fun while keeping the nice woman company. And he was pretty certain she felt the same way. He was the first one up of the two by then, but had the built-in notion to knock on Stella's room to wake her, which came from him doing this objective to his parents at some few times in his life. "Rise and shine, Stella!"

The woman on the other side of the room had just been waking up herself. She heard him and stretched her hands out once brushing away her light covers. "Mmmm... Good morning," she weakly yawned out. "I'll be right out, Lincoln. Is Christina awake?"

Lincoln looked to the end of the hall, not sure if the redhead was up before him or not. "Let me check," he muffled through the door, wandering into the kitchen in his white tank top and trouser shorts. "Oh!"

Christina had already been up half an hour before him, attending to the morning meals for the three clients. The special this morning was vegetable soup, composed of sliced carrots, potatoes, onions, and bits of chopped up celery, lettuce, and some seasoning she added to make the stew perfectly delicious. She'd been stirring the pot for a solid ten minutes as the soup heated up slowly. She only needed a few more minutes of it.

Lincoln went to her side of the table, startling her just by scraping the chair against the hard cement. He sat down just as Christina sharply inhaled and did a full turn. "Oh, Lincoln!"

"Good morning, Christie," the young albino greeted with a light wave. "Are you doing well?"

"Oh, well..." She went back to tend to the food and kept rotating the soup. "Actually, yes, I am feeling better after a great sleep, thanks for asking."

"That's great to hear," Lincoln cheerfully replied, looking at the pot. "What smells so darn good today, I wonder?"

Christina let out a giggle. "The veggie special, if curiosity is calling out. It's almost done! Oh, will Stella be joining us?" Christina went to the cupboard and took out two bowls, both meant for Lincoln and Stella. She placed them on the counter right near the stove and the large pot, all while keeping her face straight. Straight from the eagerness to howl in insane laughter, sourced from the motive of killing that raggedy whore. Christina had a special ingredient just for Stella's own bowl of soup, one that would be sure to leave her breathless; this was rat poison.

Indeed, the diabolical redhead lived up to the stereotype of being a wretch with absolutely no soul, proved to the angels and demons alike when she took out a container and opened it, pouring its dry, yellow-white contents into one of the two bowls. She let out a dirty, faint snort.

"Christina?" Lincoln perceived the sound as her being sick. "Are you feeling well?"

She cupped her mouth and nose once hearing herself having let the snort slip. "Mmmm...!"

Christina freed her hands and took both bowls, moving to the table. She set down the good bowl right in front of Lincoln, and went around the other side of the table, leaving the poisoned bowl across from Lincoln. "This will be for Stella," she said with a perfect smile. "I will fetch the utensils."

And then, some heavy footsteps echoed from behind.

Perfect! When Stella chugs it down, she'll-

"What's today's cuisine, woman?" Sir Grouse had made his rude entrance and took seat where Chrinstina had reserved for Stella. "Oh, vegetable soup? Why, if it was only that easy for it to be digested..."

The panicked woman looked on and took daring steps forward, risking herself being caught this way. But she had no way of expecting Grouse to grab the bowl and take a large sip as if it were a drink. And he took in the poison this way.

Oh, dear Lord...

Christina's hands twitched at this sudden and unexpected variable. She retracted her made steps in tiptoe, while the unsuspecting Lincoln crossed his arms at Grouse's rude mannerisms. "Excuse me, goood sir, but-" He never got far, as the dropping of Grouse's bowl cracked onto the table, soup staining all over Lincoln. He stood up in quite an irritated fashion. "Good heavens!"

On the other hand, Grouse had begun to succumb to the rat poison, which churned and twisted his innards in quite a painful way. He gasped for breath, wheezing uncontrollably, all while dropping to his knees. The chair was knocked to the side while the unfortunate elder suddenly had the notion to vomit out whatever it was he felt that had given him quite the grief. But what came out was dark blood.

"Oh- What in the name of-?" Lincoln got off of his ass and dashed to the dying elder's aid. "My word-"

Grouse's sting-sharp breaths decreased, as did the pain, and with that, his movements as well. His wide body slumped backwards, making a meaty thud. His glasses had fallen off by then, covered a bit with the blood.

"G-Grouse? Sir Grouse!"

The old fart was dead.

Christina dripped a sweat while Lincoln leaned his ear to Grouse's face. After a few seconds, he confirmed that the old man really was dead. "Oh, dear God."

"Is... Is he-?" Christina mumbled about, hands still trembling with no control. She kid them behind her and remained still where she stood. "G-get some help."

"Uhhh... Right!" Lincoln took a deep breath and rushed out of the kitchen, just as Stella had already gotten dressed, already leaving her room in that horrifying instance.

"Hey, good morning-" He didn't stop for her after she greeted, not even a look her way. It made her curious as to why this was. Then, she went her way to the kitchen after watching him disappear out from the inn. "Huh..."

Christina peeked over the body, and then at the mess of soup inadvertently caused by her unintended victim. "Oh, dear... I'm sorry, Sir Grouse."

Stella stopped upon seeing the body and gazed straight at it before letting out a scream of full terror. Her eyes did a shifty scout, unable to withstand the gruesome levels of the old man's death.

Christina caught the scared woman looking right at her, to which she returned the stare, and did so without a word or a broken face. She just merely stared wirelessly, and in that extended showdown, she had begun to promise the woman that she'd try it again and succeed at all costs.

And Stella then began to notice the faint fire of that darkness within her eyes. And She disregarded it when she looked back down at the dead Grouse, and then ran back to the hall.

"Don't worry..." The spilled soup had dripped onto the floor as she spoke freely, waiting for Lincoln with the help. "I won't make another mistake again. Count on it."

AN: Hmmm, I don't know how I feel about this. Let's see what you guys think.