It was a rarity that the Loud House was not running with its usual chaotic shtick. Usually, Lincoln would hear the noise and the chaos blasting around in the house: Luna rocking out with her guitar plugged into amplifiers, Lisa procuring accidental explosions from her scientific chemical experiments, Lori talking on her cell phone, Lynn running around 'practicing her athletics in the house', Lola and Lana arguing and fighting up a storm like usual…

Lincoln cursed to himself, something he did not have the guts to do in front of others. He really did not mean to bring up the fighting. Yesterday, it was a literal brawl in the family; all his sisters fighting massively, almost wrecking the entire house, including many of their bedrooms, and his room even though he wanted no part in the fight, and only wished them to stop so the peace would finally come back. Only for the entire Sister Fight Protocol to nearly turn on him in an instant.

He didn't even know what the Protocol was, what his part was in it, and why he was the only one who did not know about it. All he knew and remembered was that he tried to resolve the situation peacefully, which unintentionally caused more harm than good, was quarantined out of the safe zones, dragged into their petty unwanted fights, and pretty much kicked out of his house. And then his ten sisters had the nerve for blaming him for the entire outcome, and while his parents severely punished his sisters, they punished him for one little outburst! Even though his mom and dad stated that they understood why he did that, it still made him feel like a target of abuse.

Like an outcast, many would say. It was something Lincoln did not want from the bottom of his heart. He wished to feel loved, or at the very least, feel like he belonged in his family. Nowadays, situations like these began to become more discouraging, like Lincoln was being taken advantage of, especially when it came from him trying to help out or solve situations caused or brought by his sisters. They would quickly use him as a scapegoat for the failure, even for problems that he had no part of, hence the Sister Fight Protocol. Even his parents would sometimes believe his sisters over him, even when his sisters were clearly in the wrong. So with the evidence laid out, why should the brother even bother to help them out if he wouldn't get a benefit out of it?

The ashen-haired boy shuffled on his bed, uncomfortable about his current thought process. It was his first time thinking about this kind of thing. Thinking of the negatives really bothered him, so he swapped to the other side of the spectrum: the positive things that his sisters have done for him, like how they helped him with many of his social problems or even talked to him about girls (albeit poorly, but at least he scored one). Not only that, but Lincoln had to remember his selfish moments, where he took advantage of his sisters' hospitality and charity. So in essence, he can be just as bad as his sisters if pushed.

So what should he do to help the situation? Be the bigger man, as they call it, and take it? Or grow a spine and distant towards them?

Is it right to continue what essentially is his identity? Or should he change?

'I can't think like this…' Lincoln suddenly got up, having a very pensive sneer on his face. He really needed space from what happened yesterday. He needed some fresh air; out of the environment he calls his room in a home. Grabbing his usual orange polo and blue jeans, he opened the door…

...only to have met an indifferent, yet focused Lori, wearing a house-cleaning bandana, apron, brushes, trays and cans of paint and wallpaper paste, brushing a nice new coat on the walls.

'Oh right…' Lincoln almost forgot. The severe punishment for them was that they will be the ones to repair and refurbish the entire house under the supervision of Rita and Lynn Sr. The stipulations would be that each sister would be banned from their hobbies and devices for a good month while they work, paint, clean, repair and refurbish the entire house, only relaxing during the nighttime and meal time. By the looks and sounds of it, Lori was the only one inside the house doing the interior repairs. His parents and the rest of the sisters were most likely either outside or in the lower levels of the house. Right now, it looked like Lori was brushing away at the walls with tired eyes, until she turned her head, noticing her brother dressed and ready to head out.

Lincoln only stared back with uninterested eyes, stopping her brushing. Her expression looked bored and uninterested, but within her eyes Lincoln could see more emotions swirling within her. It looked like hidden irritation, frustration and tiredness, aimed towards himself. Guessing it was about the Sister Fight Protocol and their punishment, Lincoln's scowl drooped a little more, his eyes looking dully at her.

"The walls aren't going to refurbish themselves, Lori." Lincoln asked, fully intent on Lori to continue her brush job. There wasn't any hint or intention of being smug about it, but there was a slight hiss when the ashen-haired boy mentioned his sister's name. Lori, unfortunately with her crankiness, only glared harshly at him, as she set the brush down on the tray.

"Shouldn't you be getting out of here or something?" She frustratingly replied, the crease on her brow furrowing even more. "Go play with Clyde or read comics or something."

"I would visit Clyde if I wanted to, but reading comics? Seriously? Don't you remember?" Lincoln shot back to Lori, his words having a bit of an edge to it. Then he moved out of the doorway…

...revealing his room's true condition. A literal pigsty ripped apart by a sister hurricane gone mad. His bed was in tatters, the walls have circular cracks, almost as if somebody punched them, most of his comics were torn to shreds along with many other precious and priceless items Lincoln had within his room, and even his book report in his backpack was to the point of disrepair.

"You know I can't. All because of you, Lori."

Lincoln reminded, with a calm, yet eerie voice, which made Lori turn her head and shuddered a little. That was a memory she wished that she forgot, but Lynn Sr. not only chewed her out for it, but gnawed and ripped apart as well. Sure, Lori is going to have help from the younger ones, but she was placed solely responsible for the destruction. Now she, along with the other sisters, had to fix everything in Lincoln's room, along with re-buying the irreplaceable, like the comics and posters.

And let me tell you, autographs are not easy to come by.

"So how are you going to fix this?" Lincoln continued, with Lori, who turned her head towards the wall, her eyes and expression hidden. Maybe he just wanted to hear Lori's honest answer to the entire situation. Or maybe he wanted to see if she would crack. Lori's only response was just a tired grunt. "What?! You think I would just let you go off scot-free?"

"..." The response that he got was silence, but Lincoln kept pressing on.

"What in the world impelled you to destroy everything in my room? What compelled you to even fight over a dress?! What is going through that mind of yours, Lori?!" The ashen-haired boy, through his raising voice and increasing anger, demanded to know why she did what she did. Was it through anger against him? Against Leni at the time? How would he know if she didn't tell him?

"..."

"This isn't hypothetically, Lori. Tell me!"

"...Shut up…"

"What did you say?"

"I SAID SHUT UP!" The eldest suddenly screamed at Lincoln, who jumped back from surprise. He was only expecting a heartfelt apology, but instead, it was an unexpected, yet angered response backed up by her frustration. "CAN'T YOU JUST SHUT YOUR STUPID MOUTH FOR A MEASLY MINUTE, YOU BRAT!?" Lori heaved her words out, breath after breath, her eyes dilating with anger, her hands ready to wrap around Lincoln's neck, her jaw biting down hard. Lincoln got over his surprise and glared back, defiantly.

"No I will not, Lori! Tell me how you're going to fix everything!"

"And why should I tell you?!"

"Because you caused property damage within my property! Can't you imagine how I feel?!"

"Well, nobody cares about how you do or feel, Lincoln! And frankly, nobody cares about you at all!" Lori yelled back with sincerity, her irritation for the brother in front of her reaching its peak… and slowly began to regret what came out of her mouth. Lincoln recoiled back, visibly shocked and hurt about what she said. His eyes were glossy as if tears were going to erupt. But that hurt and sadness turned to burning anger and quiet rage, and Lincoln shook with hatred as his eyes looked at Lori with such icy malice, that she would have flash-frozen.

"L-Lincoln, I-."

"...Okay, Lori. If that's how you really feel about me…"

"N-No! I didn't-." The contrite Lori couldn't finish, as Lincoln's hands grabbed the fabric of her shirt and reeled her face in until she was an inch away from his furious face. Oh how the tables turned.

"So from saying that you don't love me at all, you're saying that you don't appreciate me doing your chores, helping you maintain your relationship with your oh so sweet Bobby, and the mountain of things that I do for you?" Lincoln snarled in a quelled voice, only adding on the pile of guilt Lori was inadvertently building in her heart. "Let me tell you something that you should already know: You should watch what you say to others, as words are the most powerful weapon you have. So tell me Lori, was it really wise to say dumb stuff like that? So if you wish to threaten and antagonize me with a 'truth', then let me tell you mine in return…" Lincoln proposed, then lean close to her trembling form and into her ear. "You repair my room to what it used to be, comics, posters, bed sheets, book report, everything. Because if you don't… you get to feel what I felt when your wardrobe gets torched and I drench that phone of yours in paint." Lincoln threatened, his rage and malicious feelings going on full-blast. "And I would do it with a wide smile on my face."

All Lori felt at that moment was her heart freezing up and despair creeping along her goosebumped skin. It was the first time she ever felt this, and she would never admit this, but she was literally scared of Lincoln and what he might do. I mean, what happened to the nice boy who helped his ten sisters out with a smile on his face? What happened to the man with the plan? This Lincoln was filled with rage, absolutely incandescent and, for reasons she knows but still denies, it was understandable that Lincoln feels this way.

"You wouldn't…!"

"Oh it's just a threat, but if you don't follow through, then it might be 'truth', straight from the heart, just like what you said earlier." Lincoln quietly replied, securing his threat towards Lori, who blanched. She wouldn't be able to live without her clothes and phone. What would she wear? How would she contact Bobby? That feeling of emptiness and desolation… it was the same as what Lincoln felt, and Lori hated that.

After a minute of silence, Lincoln roughly released his sister, knowing that whatever message that involved her personal belongings got through to her. "I thought you knew better. I thought a 17-year-old would know the life-lesson of 'watching your mouth' by now.… Guess I was wrong. In the end, I'm guessing that you value your phone above your family, don't you…?" With that said, Lincoln turned heel, and walked away.

.o0o.

It almost felt like yesterday, that moment when he was walking away from tired and guilt-ridden Lori. Within his worn-out heart, he could still hear the uncaring words she screamed in his face, but now the voice was crying out in the back of his head. At that point, the ashen-haired boy began to wonder about what would have happened if he just reigned his anger in. What would have happened if he just ignored Lori? Would the following events that would have transpired differently? Lincoln could only think of the worst that would have happened.

"Well, I think the worst of it is over, but what do we do…?" A woman's warm voice brought Lincoln out of his thoughts. Looking to his side, he saw the scene that happened that caused him to remember the cacophony that occurred when he said that he didn't know who they were. Within his mind, the white-haired boy does not have any memory of them, nor does he recall the world he was in now. One thing's for sure, this was not Royal Woods.

However, for some reason, in his heart, there was a very small lingering sentiment within, that's telling him that he knows them, however unbelieving it is. He did not recall a Scottish brute like the large man Charlie, or somebody as soft-hearted as the young robed George, or somebody as motherly as the maid Claudia, or even somebody as pompous as Walter. Yet, something about those four seemed to bother him, like he has seen something similar to those four.

At the moment, Sir Charlie, the large Scottish battle-hardened veteran, was on the ground, fainting seconds ago. His fall made a resounding thud on the wooden floors, causing some cracks to form underneath. The robed friar George was fanning Charlie while muttering prayers, in hopes of waking the large man up from his faint spell. Claudia and Walter are doing fine off on the side, although Claudia seemed flustered about the situation, while Walter was in deep thought. It was certainly perplexing on what to do next; after so many years of taking care of their Prince Lincoln Loud, nothing can even amount to what is needed to be done about amnesia.

Suddenly, within the clouding silence, Walter perked up, a topic in his head that required private discussion. "Claudia, may I doth speak to thee in private?" He requested, in which the maid wordlessly obliged and walked outside. The butler was about to follow, until he stopped and turned his head. "George, you do not have to keep fanning the oaf, nor must you mutter those utterances."

"Thou art not utterances, and neither was I muttering! T'was praying prayers to help Sir Charlie wake up!" George snapped back at the retreating form of Walter, his boyish voice cracking a little as he rushed towards the door Walter and Claudia exited from, clearly wanting to give the pompous servant a piece of his mind. And with that, the door closed, giving Lincoln a sense of uneasy silence, while Charlie laid unconscious still. A headache pulsed in Lincoln's skull, easily feeling the pressure from everything that has happened, no matter how unbelievable it presented itself.

'So I'm stuck in what looks like a 'medieval dream', with 'medieval garb' and 'medieval beddings' and with a 'medieval bear head' mounted on the wall. I'm even in a literal 'castle', where I am a 'prince', with 'literal servants'… If this was a prank from Luan to get back at me, then she's gone through very elaborate and detailed set-ups for this.' Lincoln assessed, trying to find some reasonable explanation for this. He got up from his bed and felt the environment around him. Of course, it felt like various, realistic animal fur on the bed, real old linen on his clothes, archaic stone on the walls, and soft bear pelts on his bed, and the freakish head mounted on the wall.

'But then again…' Lincoln mused in his mind, 'I did dream about having ten brothers instead of sisters, and look how that turned out to be.' He wistfully thought, how the alternate reality he always wanted (well, more like wanted six hours before) turned into a nightmare. It sure taught him to be careful on what he wished for, lest he wound up in the same situation. But this… this reality felt so real yet not so real. His hand felt the animal pelt blanket on him, how authentic and tanned it was. Something in his heart told him that this was home, yet his mind said otherwise…

Lincoln's thoughts were interrupted, however, by Charlie stirring in his faint spell. "Oi… Tha' was a frightenin' nightmare… Lord Lincoln wakin' up and havin' no memories…?" He murmured to himself, rubbing his head from the fall. Watching the lumbering man sit up from his spot, Lincoln decided he would get the information through the horse's mouth.

"Um…". The boy began, his voice faltering on how to begin his questions. "...Mr… Sir Charlie, do you know who I am…?" The man perked up from his pain, looking at the boy with wonder.

"Aye! Lord Lincoln!" Quickly, he got into a kneeling position, bowing his head on one knee. "M'liege! I have hoped dat you hadda nice loveleh nap!" He spoke in a much more formal way towards the confused boy, while also being a little louder than usual. Guess he was just excited and relieved that whatever happened 15 minutes ago was a dream, but that was to be shattered, the moment Lincoln opened his mouth.

"L-Liege? W-what kingdom is this, Sir Charlie? Am I a prince?" Lincoln asked, logic being overthrown by desperation by this point. His breathing began to hitch. Charlie then looked up, staring at Lincoln with almost disbelieving eyes, before his emotions change. Lincoln didn't know why but Charlie's sorrowful face nearly broke his heart.

"So it wasn't a dream…" The man softly muttered, his eyes trained to the floor. "You… really lost yer memories, aye…" His buff form shook a little, almost as if he was about to shed a tear. But he held firm, as the man looked deep into Lincoln's eyes, almost resonating with concern. "Please tell me, milord… Arr' thou okay? What was de last thing you remember?"

The man's words made Lincoln freeze up, but immediately the linen-wearing boy calmed down. He nearly was about to spew what happened in the Loud House, and this Charlie man in front of him would look at him like he was crazy. Thankfully, being the 'man with the plan', he responded with a simple:

"I don't know."

And it was the best answer he could come up with, because he literally doesn't know anything about this world.

"Oh, that's jus' bloody helpful…" Charlie muttered to himself, facepalming in the process. Honestly, he wasn't the type to think for long periods of time in his head. He was more of the muscular guy, just swinging the sword at his opponents.

"Umm, Sir Charlie…" The voice of a nervous Lincoln Loud broke his stupor. The old knight looked at the boy, worried, his hands shaky. It was then that a few tears came out of his eyes, and he hugged his prince tightly, yet gently.

"Oh, mi'lord!" He broke down, confusing the startled Lincoln. "I'm just glad you're back in da land of da livin'…" Like a grandfather crying on the shoulder of his adopted son who just came back to life, Lincoln couldn't help but pat on the big guy's shoulder. Once again, the warmth and familiarity began to strike him, harder this time. But he didn't mind if they stayed like this for a little bit, but there was one thing clearly on his mind. The question that was more rampant than a Sisternado. One that made him begin to fear who he was above all else.

'Who am I in this world?'

.o0o.

"Lady Claudia… Is it really a good idea?" Walter asked, clear worry in his voice. He has been aghast at what he has heard from the maid's mouth.

"Yes… I think… No, I know that it's both a good idea, and the best time to do it now." Claudia's serious face never lied; not when she scolded, nor when she yelled.

"I understand your sentiment, Claudia, but don't you think thou art being a little too hasty? The young prince has barely woken up, and without his memories, no doubt." Walter tried to reason, but Claudia's look intensified.

"All the more reason to go now!" Claudia hissed, tears stinging her eyes. "If word got out that Lord Lincoln, the newly dubbed 'Disgraced Prince of Magna', is alive, then they'll go after him on a witch hunt! We can't keep him here until they come, Walter… We can't…"

"Claudia…" Walter wasn't sure what to say. On one hand, he, and the motley crew of servants have raised Lincoln in these very halls. On the other… the ones who hired them are now out to kill the one they serve.

"Ms. Claudia, why do you cry?" George's boyish voice poked through the door, as his head peeped from its open edge, looking genuinely concerned.

"Oh, George… Forgive me, but I cannot help but allow the tears to fall." Claudia's broken voice twinged at both men's hearts.

"What? What can be so wrong from our Lord Lincoln's return to the land of the living?" George asked, but Walter's face turned grim.

"Yes, but if word gets out, then they'll come hither and kill him, George." The blunt butler replied, having George's eyes widen out of pure shock.

"N-NO! They wouldn't!" The young friar always had that innocent, positive outlook on life, Walter thought.

"They would." Claudia had to break it into him. "Therefore, we only have one option." She added, before walking out of the room, signalling both of them to follow.

"That would be…?" Walter began, but in his heart, he knew what she was going to say.

"Run and start a new life somewhere." Her words made George gasp.

"B-But what are we going to do with the royalty? We can't leave! It's Lincoln's birthright to be in here!" The friar replied naively. Walter was going to reprimand him, but Claudia beat him to the punch by gripping his shoulders and looking at him dead in the eye.

"George! How can you be so short-sighted at what is happening around you?" She all but shouted in his face, as she was sick of his optimism in a grim serious situation like this. "After what has happened during the past years, you think we can stay here and pretend nothing has happened?! NO! The royalty and her people will come for us, demanding our Lord Lincoln's head AND ours!" By now, Claudia took a few deep breaths and slowly lost her frustration towards the shell-shocked George. "I'm sorry, George, but…our Lord Lincoln's safety is top priority…"

"...I…"

"She's right, George, no matter how… harsh she said her words." Walter continued, his voice a lot more reassuring. "Please don't think ill of us. You don't have to come if you wish, but… we really need you to come. Lord Lincoln needs you, George."

"...O...Okay, George, Claudia." George looked in their eyes, after taking the maid's words in. "For Lincoln."

"For Lincoln." Both of them repeated, like a vow traded between the four servants.

"Now to find the big oaf. Most likely still with Lord Lincoln now, still balling his eyes out." Walter smiled as the trio walked towards their prince's room, only to discover that it was empty.

"Where did Ser Charlie go?" George stammered, looking around the room frantically. Claudia and Walter were in the same mindset, until both of them noticed the empty bowl of stew.

"Did they go into the kitchen?" Claudia asked, in such a hushed panicked tone, but Walter knew better.

"No… the kitchen is nearby. We would be hearing them by now…" The butler deduced, but then feared the worst. If they weren't in the kitchen, then they would be somewhere… "...far away…"

"What?!" The friar and the maid gasped.

"Quickly! To the main gate!" Walter yelled, opening the door and sprinting as fast as he could towards the main gate, dreading what would happen next.

.o0o.

"Is this it, Ser Charlie?"

"Yes, mi'lord! Here he is!" The Scottish brute of a knight pointed towards the large framed painting adorned right across the main doorway leading to outside. It was definitely adorned with the oldest of gold, along with the nameplate at the bottom, reading:

'King Lincoln "Ace" Loud I'

'Warrior of thousands, rescuer of thousands more.'

'May thy predecessors in the future honour your name and glory once more.'

"Wow…" Lincoln looked at the painting. It depicted the bright golden sun within the dark clouds in the background, and a warrior and a few dead bodies of his enemies at the foreground. Complete with a shield and sword, yet he wasn't using them at all in the battle. Rather, he had his shield block arrows coming at him, while using what looks like a shovel to dig out his fellow caved-in soldiers from underground. It was like trench warfare, but with someone able to help with the rescuing and carrying.

"Yep, a true guardian to 'is fellow soldiers." Charlie recounted, "Not jus' as a mighty knight, also for 'is selfless attitude! See, da paintin' you see here depicts da war against our enemies. But the terrain was bloody terrible, to da point of our men sickin' down in the swamps! But da king refused ta leave no man behind, and it really shows!" The older man chuckled, but Lincoln widened his eyes at the story, just imagining how caring he must have been. Looking at the warrior king again, he could tell that this wasn't your ordinary king. His posture was much more different. Instead of standing triumphantly, white hair shining radiantly, he was kneeling down, mud and dirt on the armour. The shield on one hand blocking incoming projectiles like arrows, and the other grabbing the hands of his friendly soldiers and bringing them up to the surface, along with a shovel on his back, and a sword near his hip. He didn't look like a ruler, but more like a selfless man. "A selfless man who always 'ad an 'ace' up 'is sleeve. Dat's King Lincoln the first!"

"Wait, 'ace'?" Lincoln repeated, perking up at that word. "What did you mean by 'ace', Ser Charlie?"

"Oh, right. Take a look over dere, mi'lord." Charlie pointed a fat finger towards the shovel in the painting. "See dat? Dat's da famous spade yerr forefather used!"

"Yes, but what does that have to do with-?"

"I was gettin' to dat!" Charlie interrupted. "Dat shovel dug out three of the forts dat sunk underground when da rain got so unnaturally heavy dat day. Da first king kept digging at dem spots until he brought the men out. It also hurt when he used it as a weapon. Nobody expected da shovel! Ahahahahaha!" The elderly Scottish brute laughed jovially at the story, but Lincoln was glad he got some clarification. The reason was… the spade's shape reminded him of…

'Ace Savvy… my forefather is… Ace Savvy…?'

"Anyway, dat's kinda it fer King Lincoln Da First." Charlie concluded, scratching his head at what to do next.

"Ser Charlie…" Lincoln muttered suddenly, which made Charlie stop his scratching.

"Yes, mi'lord?" The old knight kneeled, like he was being called.

"C-Could you…" Lincoln nervously began, but he was a little afraid at what his request entailed.

"Umm… yes?" Charlie looked at Lincoln and tilted his head, a little concerned.

"Could you please… tell me…" Lincoln took a deep breath. "... what I have done… the past year and a half?"

"Erm…!" Charlie looked like he swallowed a slug, his eyes bulging out and his mouth agape, as he struggled unprepared to find an answer to that question, but before he could deduce an answer…

CRASH!

"I believe I could answer that for you."

The door in the main hall broke down, startling both males, as they looked towards the bright light, along with the shadow of a woman holding an axe. Lincoln could not tell who exactly it was, but Charlie did, and in panic, drew his sword against the unwelcome visitor.

"You! W-What are you doing 'ere?!"

"What do you think, old man? I'm here for my brother. You think you can draw your sword against me?"

The figure stepped forward, heavy boots clomping on the floor, before Lincoln could see who was in front of him more clearly. What he saw… her face shocked him to the core.

"So you're finally awoken, brother…" The young blonde-haired woman snarled in front of him, her eyes narrow, her face angry.

"L-Lori…?" Lincoln stuttered, frozen in shock and fear. To think he would see her here… what in the world was she doing here?

"Princess Lorina!" Ser Charlie got into a battle stance, his eyes trained on the woman wielding the greataxe in her hand. "As Lord Lincoln's retainer, I won't allow ya to 'arm an 'air on 'im, as long as I stand! Raaaaaaahhh!" The senior warrior charged, but a quick disarm and backhand pushed the man aside.

"Tsk. You should retire early, old man." She offhandedly comments. She just turned her eyes towards Lincoln, backed in a corner. She just casually walked towards him, but each step felt like booming thunder towards the gallows, and Lori was the executioner.

"L-Lori… please! D-Don't…" Lincoln sputtered and put his hands up in front of his face, but that proved ineffective as his sister mockingly smiled, until she grabbed her greataxe.

"Well well… Shouldn't you be facing your death honourably?" Lorina mocked, sneering at Lincoln's cowardice, before raising her axe, and swinging downward.