Yay chapter 2! Hope you all enjoy this one and tell me what you think in the reviews!

(disclaimer: i don't own hetalia nor disney. thanks.)

There it was—the open window. So close. But he could not make any mistakes this time. No, not at such a crucial state.

The summer breeze felt oh so refreshing, blowing all over the young man. The drawn back curtains swayed back and forth in the wind, and the sunlight filtering through cast such a peaceful atmosphere around him—but oh, he knew that the situation was anything but peaceful.

As Feliciano approached, his hands reached for the bush of yellow dandelions set on the windowsill. They looked so innocent, so pretty—little ruffles of gold tucked into a bushel of green… but ah! One was out of place.

"AHA!" The young man cried out, his hand shooting for the furry, misplaced, yellow ball. An expected incessant chirping followed suit as Feliciano laughed, letting go of his companion who settled quickly on the window sill.

"Those are 23 wins for me, Gilbird!" He laughed. The feisty yellow bird he liked to call his companion- and closest friend- looked a little less than happy at the declaration. He let out another small chirp, flapping his wings in frustration.

The amber-eyed boy only chuckled. "Alright, I think that's enough hide-and-seek for today," he said, lifting up the bird onto his shoulder, then pulled his flowing amber locks to the side to allow Gilbird more space.

Feliciano knew he wasn't normal; he wasn't the same as other people. Granted, he'd never recalled so much as being in the presence of other people, but that was because he was special. He was special, yes, his Papa Flavio had told him so on many occasions, yet he knew his specialness came at a deadly price.

His amber hair, a near cross between chocolate brown and gold, constantly trailed behind him wherever he went. It was extraordinarily long—enough to reach the very base of his tower when thrown out the window. Each and every strand remained surprisingly tame and generally unruly, save for maybe the little curl sticking out the side of his head. His Papa Flavio had one too... the thought made him smile.

Now, it was a little past seven in the morning; time to start his daily routine!

Throwing ingredients into the large ceramic bowl, along with a little help from Gilbird, Feli had started his favorite task of baking their daily loaf of bread. About half an hour later, into the oven went the dough.

Next, he swept every inch of his home. The tower was everything he'd known, and he loved the place! With Gilbird manning the dustpan, he swept their living quarters first. He swept the ashes back into the fireplace, he swept out the dust from his woodcarving station; he swept the kitchen, his bedroom and his papa's bedroom. He knew every inch of this tower's living space, every nook and cranny. He knew all the best places to hide—himself and little treasures alike. He knew every inch of the above rafters.

Sometimes, with the help of his impossibly long hair, he'd swing from the rafters, climb them, make swing sets on them and practice makeshift acrobatic moves. He was rather skilled, if he did say so himself.

After the bread was done baking he'd set it aside, and began to read through each book on the shelf, their spines were worn and cracked from being read over and over for days on end. Sometimes he'd wish Papa Flavio would bring back a new book, but then he'd have to sacrifice time to buy his painting materials in exchange.

No, he loved painting more. Way more. A new book could wait.

After reading, he set on what he loved to do best. His paints were out and ready, several worn paintbrushes already in hand, and he looked up to his canvas, the wall, to find… not an inch more of space to paint on.

Maybe the ceiling? No, covered in his own array of paintings as well. His bedroom was in the same situation. His Papa Flavio had even allowed him to paint in his room only a year ago and now it was as filled to the brim as the rest of the house with his paintings.

Maybe… there. What was behind that curtain in the back, on top of the mantle? He shifted over the heavy drapes to find an old cardboard stand, and was delighted to find a space of blank, cream-colored wall behind it.

Perfect. And he knew just what to fill it up with.

Sliding down tiled roofs and jumping from one to another became an easy feat with Flynn Rider's line of work.

Maybe a year or so of practice had him in top-notch shape, excellence in sword fighting and sneaky tactics, as well as his face on several wanted posters—or so he heard. He'd never quite seen any yet.

So, when he decided to go after what he knew to be an impossibly huge score, it made sense he'd collaborate with two other fellow thieves, right?

Well, to be fair, the operation wasn't quick and easy. It took them a week of stalking the palace surroundings, memorizing guarding rounds, learning the quickest escape routes and most concealed areas before they began. It took another week of locating the throne room and prying open a self-made hatch on the roof without making a sound, which took a lot of stealth and strength.

The two others accompanying the infamous Flynn Rider were dubbed the Stabbington Brothers by the royal guard—a name they weren't particularly fond of. They worked well together and had been in the industry far longer than Rider had. Another thing was it was near impossible to tell them apart, save for a few key features. The older brother, Alfred, had choppy blond hair, a cowlick, and ocean blue eyes. The younger's hair, Matthew, seemed to be lighter in color, a tad more wavy, had a not-so-prominent curl in place of the cowlick, and his eyes seemed to be purplish in color.

They were also the ones he thought were easier to trust. Now, no one could completely trust a thug, especially if you were a thug yourself, but for a job this big, risks had to be taken.

In no time, the three had made their way onto the rooftops on the palace. The view from there was simply… exhilarating. All the little buildings and landmasses stretching out below you, as though the entire kingdom were yours…

"Wow… I could get used to a view like this…"

"So could I."

"Shut up, Alfred. Rider, come on!" Matthew hissed, crouched above their now opened hatch.

His brother in turn, ignored him, and continued to gaze out towards the horizon. "Check this out, Rider. A magnificent kingdom!" He declared.

Rider couldn't help but nod along. "Hmm… I want a castle."

"We do this job, you can buy your own castle," Matthew growled and chucked his brother the rope.

Alfred laughed and turned to the other thief. "You get that crown, Rider," he handed him the rope, eyes flashing briefly. "Or all of this would've been for nothing."

Ah, there it was—the criminal undertone. Of course.

Rider flashed a knowing smile, sky blue eyes gleaming in the sunlight. He then quickly, expertly knotted the rope around his waist and handed the brothers the other end.

The descent was easy enough. He stopped, just above the precious, jewel-studded crown sitting on its plush cushion in the center of the room. Nine guards encircled the kingdom's precious treasure, all luckily facing away.

This was a stupid tactic, Rider knew. He decided to have a little fun.

"Hey,"

"Hey."

"Achoo!"

"Hay Fever?"

"Yeah."

Just another day for a royal guard at the palace.

Wait.

"Hey! Stop! Thief! He's stealing the crown!"

Ah yes, mass panic. The king and queen really should get better security.

"You got the crown?" Alfred grunted, hoisting him up the hatch and cutting off the rope.

"Of course I did." In one swift motion the gleaming crown was stuffed into an old, leathery satchel. Now concealed, the three made their way down the rooftops, through the empty alleyways and out the kingdom's borders with their piece of treasure.

Another success for Flynn Rider. Oh, he was definitely going to get that castle now. "Gentlemen, this is a very big day."

Thanks for reading! #GerIta on the way don't worry

~Nixh