A/N:

Okay, before I start off this chapter, lemme just say –

You guys are amazing.

I'm completely serious.

Fifty-five reviews for only four chapters! Holy crap, what is that? It's fantastic, that's what! ;A;

That's about thirteen reviews per chapter! I'm so happy! TAT

And so many people have favorited the story and me as an author. I feel so special.

THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERYONE WHO LOVES THIS STORY AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR KIND WORDS!

I love you all! A BUNCH! x3

WARNING: This story is BL. Boys' Love. Yaoi. Gay. MaleXmale. Don't like, please don't make an ass out of yourself by reading.

DISCLAIMER: I, Kingdomheartsforevs, owning Hetalia? Or Tangled? PFFT YEAH RIGHT OHMIGAWSH

"I can't believe I did this…"

Alfred must have said that fifteen-bajillion times already, in dejected – mostly excited – tones. It was annoying Arthur to bits.

Then, of course, there were his abrupt mood swings.

"Oh my God. I'm a horrible person. My mom is going to die of complete and utter shock when she finds out."

Moments later and he's frolicking through the clearing, screaming and giggling and jumping. "This is so fuuuuun~!"

And he'd stop abruptly, just standing there, gaze far away.

"I mean, what she doesn't know won't hurt her, right..? Oh, Jesus, I'm so horrible…"

Commence re-frolicking.

Then, he got the fantastic idea to climb a tree and just sit on a branch, staring into the distance, mumbling to himself.

Arthur strode up to the base of the tree, glaring up at the boy.

God, I am wasting my time…

"Hey! Boy!" His voice sounded irritated, but the golden-haired teen barely turned his eyes to the Brit. "Stop acting so upset! I don't really know what idea is running rampant in your seemingly warring mind, but I seem to have caught a few things about it. Over-protective mother, forbade you from going to see your lights. But, just so you stop wasting our precious time," he took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly soon after and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Rebellion is normal. You're a bloody teenager. Will it hurt your mother? Yes. Does she deserve it? Probably not. But you are going to do it anyway – because you're an angsty teenage blob."

All of Alfred's attention was focused on the other man now, and he looked rather startled. Was Arthur trying to… comfort him?

If so, he's failing. Horribly.

"'Angsty teenage blob?' What the..?"

"Adventure is good. Healthy, even." Arthur smiled maliciously. "Of course, when your over-protective mother discovers that you've gone on a road trip with a suspicious British man whose origins you are unsure of, she will most likely be crushed. Her heart will break into itty-bitty pieces."

Alfred's cerulean eyes went wide as they trained on the vicious emerald of Arthur's.

"Crush her? Break her heart..?" He clutched his chest, as if he could feel it happening. "Oh my God, what have I done..?"

The older man shook his head in faux sadness, clucking his tongue on the back of his teeth. "You know what, Alfred… I am a gentleman, after all."

Said boy's gaze turned questioning.

"I'm letting you out of our deal."

The Brit grinned at Alfred as if he'd just brought about world peace.

Alfred, however, looked scandalized. "What?"

"No need to thank me. Now get down from that tree; you're going home."

The boy clutched his bat to his chest, Tony snapping his beak together loudly.

"No!"

Arthur stood completely still, glare back full-force on what he thought was an idealistic child.

"Pardonnez moi?"(1)

"I am seeing those lanterns."

Arthur threw his arms up in frustration and gave a huff. "Come on, boy! I am trying to save you from a life of guilt here –"

"No, you just want your God damn satchel back."

The Brit flinched at the curse, once-vicious eyes now widened in surprise. He hadn't seen the boy as someone who cursed often – if at all.

"You're completely serious about this, aren't you?"

The boy jumped gracefully from the tree in a blur of gold, landing unscathed on his bare feet.

He simply shoved the tip of the bat in his counterpart's face, eyes narrowed dangerously.

"You couldn't tell when I threatened you in the tower, pretty boy?"

Leaves on a nearby bush shifted and trembled, distracting Alfred and saving Arthur's "pretty boy" face. The seventeen-year-old nearly jumped out of his skin and ran behind Arthur, pointing the bat shakily at the offending plants.

"OH MY GOD, are they ghosts? Roughens? Thugs? Oh Jesus, what if they're… they're…" he leaned up rather close (too close for comfort) to Arthur's ear.

"Zombies?"

Arthur looked at him incredulously. "What?"

The bush ruffled violently this time, and the pair knew the beast was to show it's face now –

It was a fat, white rabbit.

Arthur sighed dejectedly, again pinching the bridge of his nose. "Stay calm. It can probably smell fear."

An extremely embarrassed Alfred tip-toed out from behind Arthur, staring at the rabbit. "S-sorry… made a lot of noise for a little critter, huh?" He laughed nervously.

Arthur had none of it and gave him an un-amused, blank look.

He unwaveringly stared at the younger man for a few many seconds before suddenly saying, "Are you hungry? I know a fabulous place we can go to for lunch."

"O-okay…"

The grouchy Brit stomped off ahead, leaving a flustered Alfred to stumble along behind him.

Gilbert Beilschmidt sighed, plucking a cute yellow bird - who had seemingly attached itself to his cranium - off of said body part and cupping the fluff in his hands. "You really wanna stick with me?"

The bird seemed to nod.

"Alright, fine. But you'd better help me look for this guy. Seriously, this is taking way too long…"

The bird gave a happy cheep, catching the man's attention again.

"You want me to name you?"

It nipped Gilbert's nose – otherwise, a firm "Yes."

"Uhm… well, that won't be easy, but… considering you're my bird now, and I'm totally awesome, I think I'll name you…"

The German paused to think. Birdbert? Beilbird? Awesomesauce? Naw, all those are too eccentric…

Suddenly, as if a light bulb was switched on above his head, he shouted, "Gilbird!"

The fluffy creature's little head tilted in question as if to say, "Your reasoning?"

Gilbert chuckled and patted his new companion of the head. "Well, duh. Gilbird sounds just like Gilbert. Except, you're a bird." He snickered, in true, immature, Gilbert fashion. "I'm just too awesome."

He plopped 'Gilbird' back onto his head, but before he even took his first step, a poster pegged on a nearby tree halted him.

He literally stomped over (like a five-year-old, might I add) and ripped the "WANTED: ARTHUR KIRKLAND" poster off the trunk – along with some poor bark that got caught in the crossfire – and tore it to shreds. He was none-too-happy about losing the criminal.

Gilbird pecked his head.

His mood swung drastically as he looked up - with a swoon-worthy smile on his face - past his forehead to see the little bird peering at him. "What is it, buddy?"

A fluffy yellow head jerked to his left.

Gilbert looked over, startled to find a woman in a black cloak quite a few paces away from him, her eyes wide and locked on his face.

"Uhm… can I help you, ma'am?"

Her eyes snapped even wider in realization, and she gasped quietly. "Alfred..!"

And she was off.

Gilbert quirked an eyebrow in her direction and snorted.

"That was freakin' weird."

Oh my God. What was that man doing in the forest?

I ran as fast as my aging legs would carry me back to my tower, nervously, angrily glancing up at the high window placed near the top of it.

"Alfred! Alfred, sweetheart? Come to the window a moment, dearest!" My voice hinged on the edge of hysteria as I called to the boy, and my heart swelled with immeasurable rage and panic when he didn't show.

"Alfred! This isn't funny!"

I staggered to the entrance of the tunnel, only to find the wooden trap door thrown open and forgotten.

No. No, no, no. This cannot be happening..!

I ran down the steps, through the tunnel, and up the spiral staircase in record time, shoving the damn stone out of my way and climbing into the kitchen.

"Alfred! Alfred!"

I looked everywhere for the damn boy.

He had been stolen away from me, and I knew it.

"God damn it!"

I kicked over the table by the stairs and promptly smashed whatever contents upon it hadn't broken when it tumbled.

My hands flew into my hair, pulling and wrenching it about.

I need him. No. NO!

A bright light caught on my pupil, and I shouted in rage, swiftly walking to the first step of the stone stairs and stomping it in, only to find that the offending object was not something I wanted to see.

The prince's crown.

The prince's. Fucking. Crown.

I swept it up, attempting to bend the golden metal out of shape, trying to break in the precious jewels – anything to quench my rage.

I abruptly stopped.

I have to find him. I have to find him, no matter the cost. I am getting him back.

And after I have him, he is never – ever – seeing the outside world again.

A/N:

(1): French for pardon/excuse me. You guys could probably figure that out on your own, but... xD Yeah, I know Arthur hates Francis and France in general, but c'mon. You know he knows French. ;D

I'm unsatisfied with this chapter, too... ;(

I LOVE YOU GUYS THANKS A BUNCH OMFG. ;A;

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