A/N:

OMFG, how can like, three weeks go by so quickly? ;A;

I feel like such a fail! I told you guys I couldn't follow a schedule! T~T

Anyway, here's the third chapter. And, since everyone was telling me to (and, truth be told, I kinda knew I had to), I put a lot more "me" into this chapter. ;P

BY THE WAY: Maximus will not be a horse. ;A; Sorry! Aaaand… I know you were all expecting this… but he's not France, either. T~T I COULDN'T HELP IT

Oh, and Dreamers0rule0the0earth gave me an excellent suggestion, and I'd like to thank her for it. ;P I USED YOUR IDEA :DD

WARNING: Though the plot hasn't developed to that point yet, this will be BL. Yaoi. Gay love. MaleXmale. Don't like, please don't make and ass out of yourself by reading.

DISCLAIMER: Me? Own Hetalia? Or Tangled? PFFT! I laugh at such idiocy!

The Kirkland brothers ran at top speed into the forest, the sound of clinking metal and angry shouts catching up with them, if only little by little.

As Arthur ran past a tree, he couldn't help but notice something horrendous.

"Oh, God save the Queen!"

Gaelic snorted, making an abrupt stop with Marshall not too far behind.

"What's the matter with you, boy?"

He pointed incredulously to a wanted poster that featured himself and the older brothers.

"They just cannot get my eyebrows right!"

His oldest brother rolled his eyes dramatically, grabbing the blonde's arm. "Who cares?"

"Right easy for you to say!" He used his free arm to point to Gaelic in the drawing. "You both look amazing!"

The eldest two – who looked nothing alike with the exception of their large eyebrows – were made to look exactly like each other in the drawing.

Marshall stared at the small blonde. "How much of an idiot are you, runt?"

Arthur gave him a poisonous glare. "I –"

"There they are! The thieves!"

The three brothers glanced behind them.

Up on a rather tall cliff was the Royal Army's most prized General, Francis Bonnefoy, pointing his sword dangerously at them.

"Beilschmidt, Carriedo! Flank me!"

An albino and a Spaniard rode up beside him on their steeds, flashing arrogant smirks.

The Frenchman glared at the thieving trio.

"After them!"

The brothers fled the scene before the words even left the General's mouth.

They ran and ran; the galloping of horses could be heard from their distance.

"Oi, Arthur."

The youngest Kirkland turned to face Gaelic, only to find a malicious grin on the gruff man's face.

"See you at the gallows."

He waved the satchel they had swiped in front of the other man's face, saluting him with two fingers before Marshall, who was beside Arthur, attempted tripping him.

Arthur, being smarter than his two beasts for brothers, saw this coming and grabbed the foot aimed for his knee, twisting it and allowing his Irish brother to fall into the muck.

Gaelic growled. "Dammit, you little –"

Arthur snatched the Scot's arm, kneed it right in the elbow joint (pleased when he heard a loud crack), and plucked the patchy bag from its new position in the air.

His eldest brother fell to his knees, gripping his now-swollen right elbow tightly.

"You see, Gaelic," Arthur waggled the satchel in front of his brother's face, satisfied with the snarl it earned him. "I had a sinking feeling that, supposedly, I was the only male in the family raised by Mother to be a gentleman." He clucked his tongue at the downed man. "I hoped it wasn't true. Unfortunately, with your beastly nature, it had to be."

With the same salute the eldest brother had given him, Arthur scampered off, just as the Royal Army's shouts became louder and closer.

"You are no gentleman, Arthur! Leaving your brothers to the gallows!"

Gaelic heard a howl of laughter.

"How hypocritical!"

Gaelic and Marshall saw their lives flash before their eyes as the General and his two right-hand-men galloped past, not even sparing them a glance.

However, before they could breathe sighs of relief, the footmen had them bound in shackles.

As Francis gave Antonio and I our orders, I couldn't help but chuckle.

"What's so funny, Gilbert?" The Spaniard quirked an eyebrow at me, grinning.

"I've been after this guy for the longest time." My eyes narrowed. "And today, I'll finally catch 'im."

Francis bore practically the same grin Antonio did. "That you will, Gilbert. That you will."

I waved to them with a crooked smile before riding off ahead of them, happy they let me snag Kirkland myself.

I was gonna make this fun.

I saw a flash of yellow in front of me, and as I looked up curiously to look at the figure, my eyes caught with startled, toxic greens.

My face cracked into my infamous (thanks to all the women in town) "got'cha!" smirk.

"I've got you, Kirkland! No point in running!"

Unfortunately, after my awesome badass moment, my un-awesome, un-badass horse tripped, sending me flying with a thud into something squishy.

"Gott ver dammt, that hurt…"

I looked below me, only to see a wriggling, flustered Brit.

"Would you get off of me, you fat-ass bastard?" He growled.

I grinned.

"Ah-hah! I got you! I knew I coul –"

The smaller man's eyes shot to his left side before coming back to meet mine.

I looked over.

Aw crap apples, the satchel.

My eyes burned into his; focusing, waiting for him to make the first move –

We both dove for the bag.

We rumbled, and tumbled, and beat the crap out of each other…

Then, there was a cliff.

I pulled the satchel one way, he pulled it the other. Which, in hindsight, was not a very good idea.

Though I totally won the small bout of tug-o-war (because I'm awesome), I guess I don't know my own strength.

I launched it over the edge of the cliff.

"OH, SHI –"

We both scrambled after it, even though we feared it was already long gone.

We peered over the edge.

It looked as though it were hanging for dear life on a tiny branch on a large root that stuck out from the cliff's edge.

Kirkland stared at me, and I at him.

Then I tried shoving him off the edge, but just ended up getting shoved off myself.

"Hey!" I huffed, hanging from the underside of the root, plastering an un-amused look on my face. "Not. Awesome."

He looked at me incredulously. "'Not awesome'? You tried to the same thing to me!"

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, sure. But I'm the good guy. That makes it okay."

The short man spluttered, eyes wide as he stared at me. I barely heard a mumbled "Has everyone in this world always been this hypocritical?" before he stepped bravely onto the branch, his feet dangerously close to my sweaty, already weakening hands.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

"Simple. I'm going to crush your hands so you let go and fall down the cliff."

I gaped at him.

"Didn't you shout something about being a 'gentleman' at those demons of yours?"

The Brit gave me a venomous smirk. "If you're allowed to be a hypocrite, so am I."

He raised his foot.

"Whoa, now, let's not be too –"

It came down hard and fast.

I moved further down the root, toward the satchel. "- hasty!"

A nervous laugh and his eyes were slits, concentrated on my swift hands.

He quickly stomped down again. I moved. Another stomp. I got even closer to the satchel.

He brought his feet down repeatedly on the root, aiming rather well for my hands but, unfortunately for him, not even scratching them – or touching them, for that matter.

I ended up grabbing the bag for myself, once he pushed me close enough.

"HA!"

CRACK

Again, we stared at one another.

And, in unison –

"OH FUUUUU –"

The root broke and sent us tumbling down the side of the cliff.

"God damn it, this is not how I wanted the situation to end…"

A pout set itself upon my face. I'd hit the ground hard. Thankfully, however, I'd woken before the German and snatched the precious cargo, then I'd trotted off.

"Hopefully that bastard Beilschmidt hasn't yet recovered –"

"Kirkland! Where the eff are you?"

"Where the 'eff'"? I grimaced at his childish nature and clutched the bag tightly in my hand.

Whatever. I need to find a good hiding place… maybe against this big rock. It's got a nice overhang of vines I can hide be –

I cleared the vines - with all intent to cover myself in them - but what I saw behind them was not at all a rock.

"KIRKLAND!"

I bit my lip, screwing the sense I got that said 'don't go in there' and dove into the opening.

I stayed as silent and still as possible, my ears perked for any noise whatsoever of the albino's approach.

Leaves crunched and grass swished outside the little cave I'd perched in, and the silhouette of the lanky German stood in the vines.

What's that on his head? There was a tiny, chubby thing resting on his head. I hope it's a poisonous spider.

The man moved on, still calling my name.

"Idiot. Why would he think I would come out? Some honor thing? I'm not stupid."

I decided internally that I probably shouldn't move from my cave until the man gave up, so I thought it best to quell my boredom and explore a little.

I turned to head further in –

Only to find a spacious, green clearing with a whole color wheel of flowers and a tall, beautiful tower stuck right in the middle.

The sight was placed in a wide, bowl-like encircling of rock and, to make it even more gorgeous, there was a large waterfall pouring loudly from the very top and into a small lake.

The sun hit the tower just right, as well.

"Bloody Hell…" I gasped, eyes wide, as I slowly took in my surroundings.

"ARTHUR FREAKING KIRKLAND, I SWEAR TO GOD –"

I gulped.

Well, the tower seemed abandoned enough…

I jogged to it, circling around it for any kind of entrance and, just when I thought I wouldn't find anything, I spotted a bit of wood beneath a pile of vines.

I had expected the vines to be thick and rooted in the cracks between the wooden planks of the trap door, but they lifted with, surprisingly, no problem.

I grabbed the edge of the old door and flung it open, seeing a rather shirt flight of stairs that lead to a cavern below.

"Alright… here goes everything."

I stepped onto the fifth or sixth step, climbing down the stairs cautiously, in case there truly was someone here after all.

Fortunately for me, the tunnel was completely abandoned. It was a freaking spooky place, though.

Though it was very hard for me to see in the darkness, I eventually found my way to what was the end of the tunnel. There was a rather long flight of stairs this time, twisting around in a circle to what was another trap door, very far up.

"It must be all the way up to the tope of the tower…" I sighed in exasperation. "At least I'm curious enough to climb all these bloody steps."

After about ten minutes (but what seemed like forty-five), I reached the top of the flight.

The trap door this time, however, was not really a trap door at all.

It was a large square of stone, what looked to be the flooring of the room above.

I gathered all the might I could muster into my lean arms and shoved the slab of stone upward, then forward, satisfied when I heard the clunk of it landing on the same material.

I puffed out unneeded air from the exertion and pulled myself into what looked like a kitchen. It was – dare I say – cute, and small.

I quickly shoved the slab back over the opening, even though I knew the Beilschmidt wouldn't have followed me. Couldn't have.

I looked into the satchel, lovingly stroking the (literal) crown jewel inside.

"Ah~ alone at la –"

The back of my head suddenly exploded into a burst of pain, and everything went black.

A/N:

LOL, does anyone know what line I used from another Disney movie with another Disney princess in it in here? I definitely used one! Anyone who messages me with it will get cyber cookies and I will update really fast - in like, two days, just for them! xP

But, yes, true to my word, Maximus is not a horse. Maximus isn't even Maximus - nor is he Francis. HE BE GILBERT/PRUSSIA! BUAHAHA!

I'm so sorry. xD I really couldn't help it - I love Prussia so much! XXDD Aaand I hate Francis. -.-" Probably as much as dear Arthur does~

DON'T WORRY, ALFIE

WE'LL GET BACK TO YOU SOON, MY DEAR~! xP