Thank you to those who left wonderful reviews!
TatlTails -Thank you so much kind ma'am/sir! I am honored!
lion5589 - Aw! I'm so glad you liked it! That always encourages me!
READER - I'm probably not going to add in the Guardians, but who said that Pitch needed to be defeated? Or does he? Dun dun DUN. Thank you so much for your review!

And a big thank you to crazy YinYang writer7 for the fav! :D

I do not own Hetalia. Hetalia belongs to Himaruya Hidakaz.
I do not own Rise of the Guardians. RotG belongs to Dream Works.

"Please, no!" he begged as he flapped his tiny, foot-long wings in terror.

His body trembled from the panic attack and the anticipation of the oncoming pain.

Pitch Black relished it as he let the suspense feed him as much fear a possible. A smile contorted his lips as the Warden writhed. He clenched his hand hard and twisted.

Alfred screamed.

"Arthur! What's wrong?" Matthew asked with wide eyes as Arthur clasped a hand tight over his heart and began to wobble to the side.

Matthew quickly steadied him as Arthur's energy rushed out and sapped his strength momentarily.

They had only barely landed outside of the huge theme park when Arthur felt a huge, bursting pain in his chest. He silently cursed whoever it was that wasn't taking care of the gifts he gave them.

"Oh, someone hurt their wings. Bad by the feel of it. It will pass."

Matthew's concern did not lessen as easily as Arthur dismissed it. He knew that Arthur had many apprentices –all of which he gave wings. He just hoped the one in pain wasn't his brother.

Matthew never understood how the connection between Arthur and the wings worked no matter how many times Arthur explained it. They were both connected but not all the same. Matthew only knew was that he was grateful for having them and tried his best to take care of them. (He was also the only apprentice that stuck around so he was in perfect lecture-range at all times if ever arose the circumstance.)

"So what do you think we should look for?"

"Well," Arthur began, "we should probably look for where they would stay."

They both saw the large castle looming in the distance and headed toward it. The two knew Alfred too well to know that he would love living in a castle.

Peter looked down from the ledge of one of the towers of the Disney World Castle. They weren't really meant for anyone to walk on, but that didn't stop him. He let his legs dangle down over the edge where he sat and leaned out. He didn't worry about falling. Alfred would catch him before he would go splat. Peter's own tiny wings just weren't big enough to fly with.

"Aren't wishes the coolest things ever?" he said, as he watched Disney's fireworks show. It was actually timed with a story about this kid and his wishes. How if he wished hard enough, his wishes came true.

"There's just something about being young and wishing that seems so right, you know? Like, when kids wish for something, they actually believe it could possibly happen. Adults shove their wishes away."

Anyone who saw Peter would think it was strange to hear him say that. After all, he looked about as young as the kids that wandered the park, no older than ten.

Alfred walked on the very edge of the wall too with his powerful wings, all fourteen feet of them, stretched out for balance. He smiled as he stopped next to Peter and looked down at the kids too.

"Yup. Adults are just kids who have lived in the world long enough to put restrictions on themselves and limit their own possibilities. They don't dream anymore. They just follow the rules and blend in. It's a shame."

Peter nodded as they watched the kids below enthusiastically cry out at the fireworks.

Alfred looked at Peter.

"Do you know what they wish for?"

Peter's face contorted to disappointment as he continued kicking his legs out.

"No. I'm not a Warden so I can't, but I just feel like… I don't know. There's just a part inside of me that says that there's a reason I exist. That I'm supposed to help kids. And, when I see them wishing, I just…it feels right."

"And that's why you went to Mr. Grumpy-Brows, right?"

Peter chuckled at the nickname. "Yeah."

Alfred couldn't stand to see the winged kid's spirit so downtrodden. That's when an idea struck him.

"Well…I think you're a Warden!"

"What? I don't think that's how it works-"

"Are you trying to place limitations on the Warden of Freedom?" Alfred put a hand on his hip and snapped the other hand in a "Z" formation while swiveling his head.

"No-"

"Good!" Alfred knelt down beside the boy. "Because you can't cage me! And I say that you, Peter, henceforth and forever and junk are Warden of Wishes!"

Peter laughed as Alfred picked him up stood him atop the edge with him.

He held his arms out to the open air and announced loudly, "All hail the newest and greatest Warden!"

Then Alfred conjured up an especially big and sparkly firework and shot it into the air. It dripped blue gold then shot out in random directions like excited fireflies. Peter couldn't have been happier.

He beat his tiny wings and threw himself at Alfred and tackled him into a hug.

"Thank you, Alfred! Thank you so much!"

"No prob, little bro!"

But as they were hugging, Peter grunted in pain and Alfred quickly set him down.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to hug you that hard."

"No. It wasn't you. It was- aagh!"

Peter arched his back as pain shot through.

"Dude! What's wrong? Woah! Look at your wings!"

"Huh?" Peter said after the pain subsided.

He looked to see that his wings were much larger than normal.

"They might actually be big enough that you can fly with them now!"

Peter's expression changed rapidly back to one of pure elation!

"Come on! I'll teach you! Let's go!"

Without pausing to think of why his wings suddenly grew a few feet, Alfred jumped into the wish-filled air. Peter leapt after him. He couldn't have cared less what happened to him after this day. All the wishes he ever had came true!

"Is it bad, Pete?" Alfred asked, as Peter inspected the damaged wing.

"It looks broken, but I can't be sure. Your wing is so tiny it's hard to tell. You can't exactly move it all that much when it's not broken in the first place. At least you're not bleeding."

"Well, that's good, I guess." Alfred hissed through his teeth, as he tried to not cry out while Peter felt around the tiny, feathered appendage.

Yawning, Peter sat down next to him. There was really nothing they could do. Alfred looked over at the boy with pity.

"Go to sleep, Pete. I'll make sure nightmares don't get ya."

Peter would have argued if for the fact he didn't think he could literally stay awake any longer. Although he was still scared, Alfred always kept his promises.

"Okay."

Peter then sat in Alfred's lap and the older boy wrapped his arms around him protecting and comforting him.

"Good night, big brother."

Alfred was jolted for a second. He had often called Peter his little brother, but this was the first time that he called him big brother in return. He smiled wide.

"G'night, little bro."

He was out in minutes.

"Tell me something, Alfred. Why are your wings so pathetically small?"

Right on time, Pitch was back to play mind games. It was like he literally had nothing else to do. The grey demon leaned casually against the side of the cage.

Alfred glared at him but knew better than to reply. He checked around him to make sure this wasn't a distraction for his Nightmares to sneak up on Peter.

"Did your mentor really despise you enough that he gave you little, chicken wings?"

Alfred didn't say anything, but Pitch couldn't taste the fear that came when he discovered another secret of the Warden's life. Pitch had conditioned his prisoners to believe that anything they said could and would be used against them (and it was true, in the most terrifying way possible) so they guarded their past from him. A futile effort, really.

"No? Then pray tell. I am rather curious. Do they grow and shrink normally?"

The Boogieman stooped low to look Alfred in the eye. The Warden remained silent and held Peter closer to him.

Pitch laughed through his nose at the silly gesture. There was nothing the Warden could do to prevent him from harming the boy. Only a Guardian had the power to defeat him. However, he did get more fear out of Alfred from the new arrangement. Having Peter in the same cage as him, close to the teen, made him much more protective and much more blameful of himself. He would be absolutely crushed if he couldn't protect the boy now, and that was exactly what Pitch wanted.

"Many accuse me of making magic, you know."

Alfred was slightly jolted at the topic change, but stayed soundless.

"They think that's how my nightmare sand works, but that's not true. Only Guardians can create magic with your little Warden of Belief being the only exception. Do you know why? Do you know how magic works?"

Alfred's interest was piqued, but he didn't show it. He felt a hand on his shoulder then a ripping in his back. He gritted his teeth at the sharp pain but it receded quickly and he didn't wake Peter.

When the tears finally fell from Alfred's eyes and his vision cleared, Pitch was now standing in front of him. He held white feathers in his hands. The tips stained red with blood.

"Tell me this, young Warden."

He crushed the feathers and it dissolved into a sparkly, white dust.

"Do you believe in magic?"

"So any sign of him?"

Matthew jumped down to another tower, letting his knees take all the shock. No need to use his wings more than necessary. Especially since Arthur was already pained by someone's wings today. When he landed, black dust blew up around him, causing him to cough slightly.

Arthur looked into the purple-blue eyes of his apprentice. They still held a spark of belief, but Arthur could do nothing to keep the spark going.

"I'm afraid not, my boy. He must not be here."

Matthew's eyebrows creased as his wings sagged in sorrow. He walked passed Arthur with his eyes downcast.

"Now, now. There's still more places we could check. One dead-end should not be what breaks your belief."

"That's the thing, eh. This isn't just the first time. I've looked for years. Maybe… maybe he…. Ugh. I don't know."

Arthur watched helplessly as he could see the boy's belief in the possibility of ever finding his brother fading like a dim candle.

The Warden clenched his hands into fists and glared at the ground as if that could somehow change things. That's when Matthew saw it.

He walked over and picked it up from amongst a pile of leaves and dark debris. Wiping the black dust off of it, he found he was right.

"Arthur. Come look at this."

"Is that what I think it is?"

Arthur said slowly while Matthew felt it in his hands. He couldn't believe it.

"It's his hat. What's it doing here? Peter would never go anywhere without his hat! At least, never when he was…around." Matthew trailed off.

Arthur avoided his gaze.

"Why would Peter…. Do you think he found Alfred?"

Arthur shrugged. "I can see them getting along. They were so alike and have so much in common. Both are head-strong. Both hate me." He used his shoe to make arcs in the dark dust that carpeted the balconies.

"Arthur, they don't hate you."

"Let's not get into this now, Matthew."

Matthew could sense that Arthur was at his emotional breaking point. Any more prodding would result in either tears or fury. Matthew frowned and looked back to the pile where the hat was found. That's when he spotted something else interesting.

"Is that a McDonald's wrapper?"

Looking over his shoulder to the bright yellow paper amongst dark dirt, Arthur sighed. "Yes. It seems that way."

Matthew set down the hat and walked over to the dark heap and began digging through it.

"Feathers, Arthur! There are lots of white feathers!"

Arthur joined in sifting through the black mound but fell backwards and scooted away.

"What is it?"

Arthur turned to him with wide eyes. "This material everything is buried in. This black sand. It has a darkness on it. Very, very dark."

Matthew removed his hand from the pile quickly.

"Is it dangerous?"

"I'm not sure. I'm not even sure what it is, but only Guardians and I can use magic. Someone powerful made this."

"But Guardians are good, right? Why would they have dark magic?"

"It's not real magic. I don't know. It's been faked to be this way. It must be based on Guardian magic. The Sandman's from what I'm guessing. There's only one being who would be powerful enough to create and wield something this powerful, stolen though it might be."

"Pitch Black?"

Arthur nodded slowly as he scanned the area. What they assumed was dust, was actually more of the dark sand, and it was everywhere.

"Then…Peter?" The more Matthew thought about it, the more horrified he was.

"It's very possible."

"We have to rescue him!"

Arthur nodded. As much as it was important that they find Alfred, Peter was in much more danger. The Boogieman was nothing but pure evil. If he had Peter, nothing good could come of it.

"Follow me closely. We're going to Pitch's layer."

"Alfred?"

Peter finally woke up. Alfred had stayed up even after Pitch had gone. Protecting Peter was the only thing that kept him conscious. Barely, but still conscious.

"Have a nice snooze?"

Peter smiled as he snuggled into his big brother again. "Yup."

"No nightmares?"

"No nightmares."

"Good." Alfred smiled as he unceremoniously pushed the kid off him so he could stretch out his sore limbs. He was sure that his legs had fallen asleep and might never wake up again. He stood shakily and raised his arms up, stretching out his tiny, good wing as far as it would go.

"Maybe when Arthur comes to get us he can make your wings big again?"

Alfred lowered his gaze. He didn't have the heart to tell the kid that he didn't believe Arthur was coming. No one knew where they were, and no one even knew they were missing. Not to mention both of them weren't exactly high on Arthur's nice list.

"Yeah. We'll see about that when he gets here. Maybe I can ask if he can make me a set that's red, white, and blue?"

"Colored wings? That would be awesome!"

"Hey! Get your own idea! I came up with it first!"

"So? Anyway, it's your turn to sleep. My turn to guard."

Alfred chuckled. "Alright, mighty warrior. But wake me if Pitch or his nightmares show up. Understand?"

"I can handle it, Alf. Just go to sleep!"

"No. I need you to promise me."

"Fine," Peter sighed. "I promise."

"Good."

Alfred lay down on his side and curled up in the fetal position happily. Within seconds, he was dead to the world.

Peter yawned and began to grow bored. Pitch didn't show up, which he was thankful for, but the anticipation was killing him. It was like he was at a haunted house and waiting for, well, the Boogieman to pop out of the shadows at any time.

In midst of this boredom, he spotted it. The black slithering that looked like an army of ants was marching toward Alfred, but Peter knew what it really was –nightmare sand. Moving quickly to stop it, he was interrupted by a jerking. He found Pitch clamping a hand over his mouth and his other grey arm pinning his arms into his side.

Peter struggled as he watched helplessly as the sand swirled into Alfred's subconscious. It continued to swirl until it formed into the shape of a nightmare to paw and pounce around in Alfred's dreams turning them into nightmares. Alfred himself curled up tighter as his eyebrows angled in a whimper.

"Not a sound, child. Just watch."

Peter grunted and tried his best to disobey the dark one, but nothing escaped loud enough to wake Alfred from his nightmare.

"See how all minds are tilted in my favor? How little I have to do to get someone to have a nightmare? Just a gentle prod in the direction, and their internal fear warps any sort of pleasant dream into a horror. While you might blame me for the sand, the nightmare is always of the dreamer's doing. I control none of the content."

Alfred squirmed and twitched as the nightmare turned darker and darker dragging him farther and farther into despair.

Pitch Black chuckled at the sight in Peter's ear before he enveloped himself and the boy into a portal of shadow. In a flash, they were gone leaving Alfred alone in his suffering.

Sorry that this chapter's shorter. This will probably be the length of a typical chapter rather than the first chapter. I just had to introduce Arthur and Matthew as well as Peter and Alfred with their situations, and it just took longer for the first chapter. Now that you have your bearings, I got the chapters back to normal size.

So now Arthur and Matthew know that Peter's been taken by Pitch, but they still haven't really made the connection that Alfred could have been captured too.
I also stuck in some headcanon. I don't normally write for the RotG fandom, and I've never read the books (only seen the movie). But, from what I can understand, Pitch can just mutate the dream sand, he can't truly create it like the Sandman can. I hope that wasn't confusing.
It also kind of pained me because I don't like it when other do this, but I made Arthur an exception to the magic "rule." He can use magic even though he's not a Guardian because, well, it's England. England uses magic. It just wouldn't be right without it.
The part in italics is a flashback. I figured that was self-explanatory. People will often use italics like that.

IMPORTANT: This story will be on hiatus for an uncertain amount of time. I've got my other fanfictions to work on that I've promised people I would give priority to. So I will come back to this one. It just might be a while. Sorry for the inconvenience. But I do still hope that you review and tell me what you think.

In the mean time, I encourage you to check out my other Hetalia stuff. I have various historical one shots as well, a recently-completed chapter fic, and some various chapter fics still in progress.

Until we meet again, review and fav as you so desire.
Looking forward to it.