A/N:

You guys.

You guuuuuyyss.

I love you. I love you so much.

This is the most support I've ever had from anyone in my whole life. I'm so elated right now. I'm super serious – I'm so friggin' happy ugh.

Eighty-seven reviews.

…Eighty. Seven. Reviews.

God damn, that's a lot! (I really like italics, don't I?)

I feel so badly for not updating for so long. I'm so sorry, guys. I suck. A lot.

But just know that, for seriously:

I. Love. You. Alllllll~.

Please, please, please continue being awesome. These reviews are making my life a happy place. (Did that make sense?)

This chapter's just a work in progress, because I fear that I am, somehow, losing interest in this story. But now that summer's here, I'll try to write a lot more!

I LOVE YOU GGUUUYYYSSSS.

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: No own Hetalia or Tangled. Woof woof.

"I know it's around here somewhere."

Arthur had lead Alfred from the boy's in-the-middle-of-the-forest-nowhere tower and onto a tiny dirt road.

Alfred had his bat poised and ready, as always.

"Ah-ha! I've discovered the Lost World!"

Alfred snorted and quirked an eyebrow at the Brit. "What..?"

"The Snuggly Duckling." He gestured proudly with an ivory hand to the cute building in front of them. "Don't worry; it's very quaint - perfect for you. Wouldn't want you getting scared and giving up on this ridiculous endeavor, now, would we?"

His green orbs rolled skyward in an eye roll that the boy beside him didn't catch – nor did he catch the plain sarcasm in the thief's voice.

Alfred glared at his traveling companion. "Hey! I'm not scared that easily!" Then he turned away and mumbled, "Though, I do like ducklings…"

However, to his chagrin, the Brit caught his statement.

"Oh, yay! See, told you it was perfect."

And so, the two barged into the eatery, Alfred expecting nice music and good people, and Arthur knowing what was coming so well that he had an evil smirk planted on his face.

"Oh, garçon~! Your finest table, please!"

Everyone seemed to completely stop what they were doing just to glare at them, and the soon-to-be eighteen-year-old let out an audible squeak.

They were all intimidating and grizzly looking; some had hooks, some had pet rats, most had missing teeth, many were bald, all of them huge…

And the actual pub; it was just made of the trees that had surrounded the lot.

Who does that? Didn't Arthur say this place was quaint?

Alfred aimed his bat at the closest ones to him, jumping nearly ten feet in the air when Arthur placed his hands firmly on his shoulders and directed him through the crowd of horrible men.

"Smell that, Alfred. Take a nice, deep breath through the good old nose." He set an example, wheezing a bit afterwards. "Man smell, really bad man smell…"

The golden-haired boy didn't see the Brit's nose scrunch up in disgust behind him; he was too busy trying to figure out which over-sized man he'd have to whack over the head first.

Tony, who had been eerily quiet through their trip so far, took this moment to fly down Alfred's shirt.

"Overall, I'd suppose it smells much like the color brown." He leaned down to Alfred's ear, where he whispered, "Your thoughts?" before he felt a big hand on his hair.

Oh my God, is one of them touching me?

One of the burly men – a medium-sized (but still slightly taller than him), platinum blond man with lots of muscle and cold, blue eyes – was feeling his hair.

"Zis is such a strange color. And it's… soft?"

Alfred squeaked again, jumping away from the man's touch – only to here Arthur proclaiming loudly,

"Alfie, take a look at this gentleman's mustache!" He sounded so gleeful, it made Alfred sick to his stomach. "He has blood in his mustache! Why, my good sir, that is certainly a lot of blood~!"

The boy whimpered, gazing into the slightly malicious green eyes of Arthur.

Those eyes were so intense that, completely on accident, he backed into an extremely tall, muscled man with silver hair and childish-looking, violet eyes.

The creepy man seemed to have a black aura around him. "You will be good to remember your manners, da~?" The man practically growled in a heavy accent he didn't recognize.

Alfred swung his bat around to face the man, eyes wide and glazed.

"Oh, my," abruptly, Arthur took this situation as an opportunity to rub the fear in Alfred's face. "You're looking very pale, Alfie." The sarcasm was nearly dripping from his voice now, but Alfred was too petrified to place it. "Perhaps you should go home, if you're not feeling very well? This is a top-notch restaurant, you see, and if you can't handle it here, maybe you'd be better off in your tow –"

The Briton had been leading his counterpart to the door when, rather loudly, the door was slammed in their faces by a very tall blond man with glasses, his eyes cold and calculating, like the first man Alfred had encountered.

Said boy dove behind Arthur.

"Th's you?"

He pointed to a wanted poster on the door.

WANTED: ARTHUR KIRKLAND

REWARD: XXX GOLD PIECES

Arthur gulped and stared at the poster. Then, the man. Back to the poster…

He noticed one of the man's fingers was smack-dab on his forehead, covering his eyebrows.

He lifted the finger, displaying the "horrendous" adaptation of his "proud, English brows".

"By God, now they're just being rude!"

The medium-sized platinum blonde – with a German accent, Alfred noticed - stomped over eagerly. "Zis ist him, alright."

He gripped Arthur tightly by the neck of his shirt, pointing an outlandish pistol against the bottom of the thief's chin. "Your revard vill get me a new gun –"

"One moment, please~!" The creepy one – seemingly Russian – snatched Arthur up. "I would like some money, da~"

The very tall man who had rudely slammed the door on them re-appeared, plucking the thief out of the creepy man's arms.

"Th's 's my r'w'rd. I n'd the m'ney f'r my w'fe."

Suddenly, everyone in the pub was after Arthur, yelling and shoving at one another to get a grasp on him.

The Briton could have sworn he felt hands on his junk at one point.

However, the group grew tired of Arthur's feverish struggling, and the German reared back a fist –

A baseball bat made a loud thunk on his head.

"LEAVE. HIM. ALONE."

The crowd all turned toward the - seemingly small - golden-haired teen behind them, who was looking more worn-out by the second. He puffed out his chest with much needed air and said:

"Alright, I have absolutely no idea where I am and I need him-" he shoved a finger in Arthur's direction – "to take me to see the lanterns because I have been dreaming of seeing them for real for my whole friggin' life!" He took another big gasp of air. "Find your humanity, people! For God's sake - haven't any of you ever had a dream?"

The German gave me the most threatening look I've ever received in my whole life.

He pulled his gun from his belt, squared his shoulders, and strode leisurely toward me, his icy, blue eyes not once breaking the gaze he had on me.

As he approached, I realized that I was actually at least a few centimeters taller than him. That didn't make him any less intimidating. At all.

He finally came nose-to-nose with me, his eyes piercing into my soul.

I almost began to hyperventilate out of fear when he said, reminiscently:

"I had a dream, vunce." His face screwed up into a not-so-pleasant, kind of sad, look, and – without even looking where he was shooting – he pointed his gun, there was an ear-splitting bang!, and a bullet whipped past the tavern's very own one-man-band.

The poor, tiny man shook so hard and cried as he began playing his instruments. I felt badly for him.

"A gut story deserves adequate background music." The German sniffled. "I am burly, rude, and malicious, and violence-vise my hands… zey are not ze cleanest," he gestured to a large, dark stain on the ground. I didn't even want to know. "But, despite my deasly glare, and my temper, and my gun…" sad music played in the background.

"I've alvays vanted to be loved by someone elts." He sighed depressingly. "I had a lover, vunce. He vas ze most covardly, ignorant, lazy person I have ever known, but I loved him. And I vant him back!" He beat a clenched fist on a barrel beside us, obviously worked up. He turned and began to stomp away –

"Wait," I said, feeling an odd, weighted ache on my heart at his words. "I like your dream. You'll find someone, uh –"

"Ludvig. Ludvig Beilschmidt."

I smiled brightly at him. "Yeah, you'll find someone, Ludwig. It might be today, or tomorrow, or in a year, but you will. I can feel it."

A tentative hand rose in the now-audience of men. It was the scary-aura man with the kiddy smile. "As long as we are sharing, I would like to say that I am terrified of my baby sister, for she wants to marry me. However, one day, though I am quite scary, I hope my older sister will accept me and allow me to run away to her to a different country, far away." His odd, violet eyes gave off a warm glow as he thought of this older sister. "Sadly, she is quite terrified of me…"

The crowd grumbled agreements to her judgment.

"Well, Mister..?"

"Just call me Ivan, da?"

I smiled. "Yeah, sure. See, Ivan, you can be a little intimidating, but she's your sister – she loves you." I also gave a horrible shudder. "Though your little sister wanting to marry you is a little disturbing, and I'm not exactly sure how to handle that, so you're on your own."

A/N:

Yeah, so. Work in progress. -.-"

I'LL GET IT DONE, I SWEAR TO GOD!

I'VE BEEN SWEARING IT UP AND DOWN.

IT WILL HAPPEN!