A/N: Oh my God, thank you all so much for reviewing! Broken Trinity has hit 70 reviews. I salute all you wonderful reviewers out there for your overwhelmingly positive response. It really made me happy!

Anyway, I apologize for the delayed update. As reviewers of the last chapter already know, my Internet was down for AGES--it crashed right after I posted the last chapter. How cruel is that?

This chapter is dedicated to starlight2005--who sustained me through the long, Internet-less week or two--and to O.C., who put up with my chattering right after we were reunited via the 'net. Also to the crappy phone company who decided to cut me off and then take ages to rectify their mistake (a pox on your heads!).

This is going on a bit too long, so without further ado, I present to you Chapter Four.

Chapter Four: The Cracks In the Glass

"Godspeed," Wolfram said, saluting Gwendal and his men, Murata standing like a silent guardian by his side, nodding at the soldiers in acknowledgment. He finished his well-wishes with a traditional military blessing. "May you bring honor to the Great Demon Kingdom."

Gwendal nodded. "Keep safe, Wolfram," he said, before spurring his horse into a gallop, his green-clad soldiers following closely after him.

He noticed that Conrart and Jossak's troops were lingering, and he frowned. "Something wrong, Weller?" he asked.

Conrart looked down. "A quick word with you before I go, little brother? In private."

Wolfram saw that Jossak's eyes were wide with amusement and slight surprise, and he scowled at the redhead. He wasn't—and had never been—fond of Jossak. "All right," he agreed briskly. "I trust it isn't anything too dire?"

His half-brother shook his head as they distanced themselves from the others. "No, nothing like that. I'd just like to… express some concern… over the incident that took place between you and His Majesty earlier today."

Wolfram let out an exasperated sigh. "What more is there to it?"

"Please… whatever it is, find some way to patch it up," Conrart said anxiously. "I know that it's difficult for you, Wolfram, but I'm afraid that you might do something rash—"

"Rash?" Wolfram asked, eyebrows raised. "He's the one—"

"I know," Conrart said quickly. There wasn't much time for them to talk; already Jossak was signaling for him to wrap up. "I know that Yuuri's mostly to blame. But please, be patient with him."

Wolfram looked hurt. "Well, I…"

"Look, little brother," Conrart said, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. He felt Wolfram flinch under his touch and felt a pang of sorrow and regret. "If it came to your heart's happiness, I would gladly lie and die for your sake." Even if you were carrying on a guilty dalliance with His Majesty's best friend.And it just so happens that you are… "But please, Wolfram. I know how much you love Yuuri."

"That wimp?" Wolfram asked hotly.

"Yes," he said with an indulgent smile. "That wimp. I know that you love him. So please, please give him…"

"A chance?" Wolfram asked, anticipating the request with a slightly bitter laugh. "I have, over and over again. Tell me how much is enough, Lord Weller." Is it enough when you hurt so much you think you will die? Is it enough when you're willing to lay down our life for his sake?

How much is enough? Will I grow old and tired of waiting?

Or am I waiting for something that'll never come?

Conrart shut his eyes against the injured tone. "If someone offered to love you wholly, would you accept him? Even if he wasn't Yuuri?"

Wolfram rolled his eyes. "How could I fall in love with someone I don't know well?"

But what if it was someone standing by your side the whole time? Conrart had no voice to give the question. He dropped his gaze. All he could do was pray that his brother was happy, however he might choose to seek out that happiness. "Goodbye, little brother," he said, hugging him abruptly, causing the demon's eyes to widen in green-eyed shock. "Watch yourself until I return. And please, find some way to make up with His Majesty."

Wolfram's heart softened despite himself. "I'll do it by tonight," the prince said grudgingly. "Godspeed… Conrart," he said, swallowing hard as he finally pried the hated name out of his throat. He barely glanced at the red-haired half-blood before adding a quick "Jossak" with an imperious nod that made Murata smile at his snobbery and his childishness.

He saw a moment of intense gratification suffuse his brother's face before the brown-haired soldier raised his hand in a parting wave and disappeared.

"Tell me a story," Greta implored.

Wolfram sighed from his place beside her. She was growing up into a lovely girl; and he thought that she was rather too old for stories now that she was almost ten. "Greta, it's late. You should go to sleep." Actually, he was the one who was exhausted. He had been sulking at being left behind and had elected to skip training in favor of spending some quality time with his adopted daughter.

What he hadn't known was that Greta had turned out to be a regular daredevil. She had worn him ragged with her endless amusements and diversions. Then again, he was kind of thankful that he wasn't raising a boring little princess whose only pastimes were playing with dolls and curling her hair.

"It's not that late," she huffed. "Or are you getting too old and creaky to tell me a good story?"

He laughed, ruffling her hair affectionately. "What kind of a story?"

"Something new."

He racked his head for some yarn to tell her. "Let's see…"

"Murata!" she suddenly squealed, interrupting him.

"Hello, Greta," the double black greeted her. Wolfram turned, his eyes widening ever so slightly. But he wasn't surprised. He had felt the Great Sage's eyes on him the whole day, no matter what he had been doing. "Hello, Wolfram."

"Great Sage," he returned calmly.

"Wolfram's too old and lazy to tell me a story!" Greta confided in Murata, pouting.

Murata laughed. "I think that considering my past life, I'm older than he is, but would a story from me suffice?"

"Yes, please," Greta said, bouncing on her bed. Wolfram clicked his tongue disapprovingly. She was too old to act like that, really.

"Lighten up, Wolf. I think it's adorable," Murata whispered, as though reading his mind. The fire-user went red but held his tongue.

"Okay, let me see." Murata paused to tuck Greta into bed. "There was once an incredibly gorgeous prince—the most beautiful in the land."

"If it's a prince, how can he be beautiful?" Greta asked, sticking her tongue out at him as she fought his efforts to place the sheets over her. "Don't you mean a handsome prince, Murata?"

Still, he resisted and managed to get her to settle down under the covers. "Well, look at Wolfram here. He's a prince. Don't you think that he's absolutely beautiful? Look at those stunning green eyes."

Wolfram blushed scarlet as both Greta and the Great Sage laughed at his expense. "Leave me out of this."

"Yeah then, he was as beautiful as Wolfram over here," Murata confirmed, disregarding his request. His face glowed as he embroidered on the theme. "He had beautiful jewel-like green eyes and hair that was soft as spun silk, of a radiance that outshone the sun. He lived in a war-torn country. His mother was queen. And he had many, many admirers. Everyone loved him, although he had his faults as well; he had a pretty nasty temper, and no one dared to admit their love for him."

Greta giggled. "Sounds familiar."

"Oh, really?" Murata asked blithely. "I'm sure that I wouldn't know who you were talking about." He chuckled at the embarrassed irritation written all over the prince's face. "Anyway, there came along an unknown knight whom they discovered was actually the rightful king of the country. So naturally, he became the ruler. And purely by accident, the prince was… er, elected by the citizens of the country…" Well, no harm in editing the story a little, "to become the king's fiancé."

Wolfram's eyes flashed a little at this comment, but Greta piped up before he could speak. "Were they a very loving couple?"

"No, actually." Murata smiled sadly. "The king and the prince were always at loggerheads with each other. The prince, at first, hated his engagement; but in the end he realized that he loved the king. The king, on the other hand, refused to recognize the stirring feelings that he felt in his heart. The prince was badly heartbroken over this."

"Does this have a happy ending?" Wolfram asked quietly, interrupting the flow of the story.

"I don't know, Wolf. Why don't you tell me the answer to that?"

Greta's eyes darted between the two of them. Sudden understanding and pain filled her eyes when she saw the wistfulness in the double black's face, the stubborn denial and heartache in Wolfram's. She was young, but she was a lot more in tune with these sorts of things than Yuuri ever would be. "Murata, does it have a happy ending?"

The Great Sage forced a smile at her. "Yes, of course, Greta."

"Then what happened to all the prince's admirers?"

He took a breath. "Most of them got over it eventually. There was one, though, who vowed to always love the prince, no matter what happened. No matter whether he was loved in return or not. He didn't care, because his heart already belonged to the prince whether the prince had asked for it or not. Even if it was rejected, he kept giving it. Even if he knew that it could harm him, the prince and the king, he couldn't help himself. He didn't want to hurt any of them… it just happened that way."

"I wanted the king and the prince to end up together," Greta murmured. "But… if there's really no way for that to happen… if there's really no choice… then I guess that it would be better if the prince fell in love with that admirer." Then, suddenly, she burst into tears. "The admirer isn't a bad man, even if he's a little selfish. He's in love, right?" She looked straight at Murata. "Right?"

Yes Greta, very much so.

"Greta!" Wolfram went over to hug her at once before Murata could let the words slip out of his mouth. "It's… it's just a story, Greta. Nothing more than some silly figment of imagination."

"Is it?" Greta hiccupped. Even though she knew full well that they were only trying to calm her down, she grasped at any opportunity to deny the truth that she had unexpectedly realized. "It's not… it's not about Yuuri and you?"

"Of course not," Murata assured her, lying through his teeth. He gazed at the blonde, stroking his adopted daughter's hair. Wolfram looked rather upset himself, but he soothed her until she fell asleep.

"Great Sage… Murata," he corrected himself when the two of them had kissed her, tucked her in and then got to the doorway. His eyes looked searchingly into the double black's. "I don't know what you meant by trying to distress Greta like that."

He shrugged helplessly. "I didn't mean to, Wolf. I couldn't help myself."

"Couldn't help what?"

A hand seemed to reach out of its own volition to finger a lock of that golden hair. "To say something." He cleared his throat, dropping the hand to one side. "I… am acting like a Great Dunce more than a Great Sage these days, I'm afraid."

Wolfram closed his eyes. "Then I suppose that I'm acting more like a von Idiot than a von Bielefeld." Because I have been dreaming strange dreams, and wake up wanting you. Wake up from fantasies so vivid that I find marks on my neck and bruises on my lips.Was my love for Yuuri this shallow that I could even think about… about… no. It isn't shallow, and it still haunts me. But I… I can't stop…"Great Sage, please stop." Or I'll die.

Murata forced a chuckle. "I was only teasing, Wolf."

Wolfram's throat constricted as he watched Murata drift away. Something made him wonder whether the Great Sage really had just been teasing him. And something told him that it wasn't the truth.

Later that night, Wolfram was in Yuuri's room. "Hi."

Yuuri felt a rush of joy at seeing the blonde demon back in their chambers. "Wolf! Are you staying…?" He saw the quizzical expression on the prince's face and felt his heart sink. "Ah, yes… what is it?"

Wolfram let out a nervous laugh. "I just wanted to apologize for that unseemly quarrel earlier today." He cast his eyes down at his feet. "I hope that you're not mad at me, Your Majesty."

"Wolf, could you stop calling me by my title? It's weird."

"Um, okay. Yuuri. Anyway, I'm sorry for losing my temper—even though I still think I'm right," he added as an afterthought. "So. There. Conrart said that we should make up, and I promised him that I would do so by tonight."

Actually, Conrart had been acting peculiar around him. As though he knew some dark secret that made him worry about him. Wolfram bit his lip, tasting the bruise there. Maybe Conrart had seen him get drunk the night before. He knew Wolfram well enough to know that the prince only ever let himself go like that hen he was emotionally upset. That was likely it.

"I guess it was kind of my fault too," Yuuri said, feeling the knot between his shoulders vanish. "I'm sorry. I overreacted."

"Well, it's not like it matters anymore," Wolfram said. "I'm not staying at the barracks, and that's the end of it."

"Oh yeah, you're bunking out with Murata," Yuuri said, smiling. He couldn't describe the smugness—and slight relief—that he felt. "Yes, I find that preferable to staying with your soldiers."

"If you don't mind my asking, why wouldn't you let me stay with them anyway?"

"Well… there are issues… you're part of the nobility, of course, and they're all commoners—"

Wolfram frowned. "Yuuri, look at me and tell me that with a straight face."

The double black couldn't find the resolve to raise his head. There was no way he could look Wolfram in the eye and spout that rubbish.

"You were never one to make distinctions," Wolfram pointed out. "You've always been the one to take the lead in equality and abolishing the class system. Ill as that makes me, I've been taking measures towards that. I've been trying to be more open-minded about the whole thing, and I found that you were right about most people. Actually, a lot of them are more fun than the stuffy nobles." Yuuri felt his blood boil, as he wondered whether that also meant Devon. "So tell me the truth, Yuuri."

Yuuri began fiddling with the buttons on his pajamas. "It's… a really stupid thing, okay? I really can't tell you right now."

Wolfram shrugged, feeling too tired and preoccupied with other things to pry the truth out of him. "Okay then. Goodnight."

"Hey Wolf… do you want to stay here?"

The prince glanced back. "Uh, what?"

Yuuri was talking very fast, and not looking at him at all. "I thought, you know, maybe you would prefer to sleep here… and it might be inconvenient to Murata and all that…"

Inconvenient. No, Yuuri was wrong; that word should be described for their situation, not his and the Great Sage's. Because apparently the Great Sage didn't mind in the least. Quite the opposite, really. For a moment Wolfram wavered, especially when he thought of the problems that could arise between Murata and himself later that night—especially after the story that he had told Greta. But still, Yuuri had already made things clear.

"No thanks, Yuuri. I don't wish to disturb your rest." Okay, Yuuri. This is one chance to tell me whether you actually want me in here or not. Is this really just about Murata?

He looked long at the king, searching for some glimmer of meaning in those dark, unfathomable eyes. "Unless you want me to." This is your last chance.

"Oh. Goodnight."

When the prince had left, Yuuri punched his pillow angrily. What was he, stupid? He had longed for this day for over two years; his own bed, at last! And yet he had tried to undo all of it by inviting Wolfram back.

And now that he had what he wanted, he wasn't the least bit happy.

"Yuuri's been acting kind of weird lately," Wolfram murmured as he changed into his nightgown. He felt kind of uncomfortable dressing with Murata right there, but he couldn't tell why. After all, Murata was another male, and he wasn't even looking at him.

"Weird in what way?"

"Mood swings," Wolfram said. "You know what I mean, don't you? He's been so peculiar…"

"It's all right, Wolfram," Murata assured him. "I think that Shibuya's just going through some changes right now. If you ask me, he should have dealt with them long ago." But with a pang of regret, he realized that he didn't think that it would turn out favorably for Wolfram.

"I suppose it doesn't matter," the prince mused, shaking his head. "It hasn't affected his ability to rule…"

"Is that all about him that matters to you?" Murata asked.

"Of course not, Great Sage." Wolfram let out a little laugh. "Perhaps I was just trying to reassure myself."

"You know that I'm here for you, right, Wolf?"

The blonde bit his lip, lost in the warm sea of those dark eyes. The proper answer was to nod, smile and say that yes, he knew that, and he would be glad to help Murata if the need ever arose as well. All very well and polite—the correct response from a comrade and a friend's fiancé. But instead he looked up at the double black through his long lashes and asked softly, "Why?"

Murata hesitated. There was no way he could keep looking at that face and lie. But he couldn't tear his eyes away either. You can't look, but you see everything. But now he had to look—he couldn't do otherwise. "I love you."

Wolfram drew in a sharp breath. "You… what?"

"Love you, Wolf, with every fiber of my being," Murata said, the words tumbling out of his mouth. "Even if you scorn what I give you, even if you care for… for someone else… it doesn't matter to me. My heart is yours, and I'll keep on giving it. You can do what you want with it. Because…" There were no words that he could use to encompass everything that was Wolfram, so pure, so beyond description. "Because you're you."

The prince shook his head violently. "I can't… I don't…" He couldn't bear looking at Murata at the moment, because if he did, he might just lose it. "Oh, Shinou."

Murata felt the corners of his lips quirk up at the irony of that statement. Shinou… Wolfram was the more emotional, loving, innocent version of Shinou. A golden-haired vision of beauty untainted by the shrewdness and lust for power that had worked to destroy their relationship eons ago.

"It's okay, Wolfram," he said with difficulty. "I've struggled with myself—with these… these feelings—for a while now. Perhaps since I first laid eyes on you. And I know that I can handle them. I only wish for your happiness." He smiled a little. "Are you afraid?"

"No," Wolfram found himself saying. "Not if it's you, Murata. I could never be afraid of you." But I am afraid of what this could do to us.

"You can leave if you like."

"I… don't want to." Wolfram slipped into the bed beside him. "Great Sage?"

"Yes?" Murata was having trouble breathing normally with Wolfram so close next to him.

"I think I love you too."

Murata's head shot up. "What?"

Wolfram nodded miserably. He didn't turn, keeping his back towards Murata. Instead he played with the ribbons on his pink nightgown. "I hate myself for it. I might even hate you for it. But yeah, I think so." He glared at the wall. "It's not like I wanted it to happen."

"It just did," Murata said, echoing the words he had used to tell the story earlier. "Wolf, what are we going to do?"

Wolfram finally faced him. "Do you really love me?" he asked in an incredulous voice—as though it was difficult for him to imagine anyone loving him.

Murata touched the side of his face very gently, realizing that Wolfram had become accustomed to Yuuri's graceless rejections and oblivious cruelty. "I told you. Even if my heart gets rejected, I'll keep on giving it."

"Then we're doomed." Wolfram scooted a bit closer to him. "Because I'm the king's betrothed, whether he wants me or not. I know that there's no point in sticking around in a loveless engagement, but even if I… if I love you…" He hesitated. "I think I do. Kind of…" Is it love if you feel it for two people at once?

"You still love Yuuri."

"Yeah."

"So…"

Wolfram hit him with the pillow, losing his patience. "Well, you're the bighead around here! Aren't you supposed to know what to do?" The Great Sage held in a laugh of delight at his incorrigible impulsiveness. Most people would never have dreamed of hitting the Great Sage.

Murata considered it. "Would you force yourself into a loveless relationship with Shibuya?"

"I would never do that."

"Then… since he so willingly claims not to love you…" Murata felt a pang of remorse, but stifled it. He remembered the dark mark that had marred that perfect wrist just hours ago, and he hated Yuuri for it. Hated him so much that he wanted to kill the king. "Let's just snatch at happiness where we can."

He recalled his words to Shinou, ages and ages ago: "I will be reincarnated forever, and my soul will retain all its memories. In exchange for that, I must give up my one chance at happiness."

"Your one chance at happiness?"

"Yes. At love."

He pushed the thought out of his head. Right now, he didn't give a damn about consequences; all he knew was that Wolfram was here beside him, right now, and that it was so long ago and all he could think of was how sweet he smelled and how much he had wanted this. "You know that I love you. And I'm glad that you love me. If ever Shibuya finally gets with the program and realizes that he likes you as more than just a friend, then you're free to choose."

"I can't do this to him. I don't think that I can choose, if I get involved with you," Wolfram said.

"Well, there's always the option of having a kinky threesome," Murata added wryly.

Wolfram hit him with the pillow again. "Is that all you can say? You PERVERT!" His cheeks flushed. "You're right." He sent a silent apology to Yuuri. But you only wanted me to die, and he wants all of me. "I'm free to choose. And right now, I'm choosing this because I want to. Is that wrong?"

Murata grinned and kissed him lingeringly, his hands smoothing down the wild flaxen hair. After what seemed like ages, they came up for air. He didn't need to answer the question; the light in his eyes was answer enough. "I love you." He would never get tired of saying it. After holding the words inside of him so long, the sound of them, the feel of them on his tongue, was the sweetest thing he had ever known.

Wolfram smiled and returned the kiss with one of his own. In response, he put his mouth near the Sage's ear and whispered, "Pervert."

The maids had come to the conclusion that without Conrart, Günter or Gwendal, Lord von Bielefeld was a much nicer person. The day after their departure, he had positively glowed, as though he was radiating joy. For one, he hadn't snapped at a single person, and he resumed his training with fresh energy, although he seemed rather anxious about something.

Murata was rather more discreet, although he was amused by the way the palace's inhabitants interpreted Wolfram's newfound happiness. He knew that Wolfram had never felt quite so loved. He felt a bit sorry for the blonde. Lady Cecilie, as affectionate as she was, wasn't exactly the best of mothers, as she was always running off somewhere—and in any case, Wolfram thought that she gave her love to almost everyone. Gwendal was Gwendal, and therefore not inclined to displays of fondness. There had been Conrart, and for a brief period in Wolfram's childhood, the prince had felt adored without condition. But of course that had fallen apart when he had learned that his half-brother was half-human. And Yuuri—he had thrown himself on Yuuri seeking desperately for some form of warmth, and the double black had simply taken it for granted. It was no wonder that Wolfram was so much more exuberant.

"I think it was because he was always afraid of one of those three stealing His Majesty away from him."

"No, I think that probably he and His Majesty consummated their relationship last night. They say that Lord von Bielefeld went to His Majesty's room again and they talked a little bit, but then His Majesty asked him to stay!"

The Great Sage choked with horror and laughter. In Shinou's name, Yuuri was only sixteen! For all the times Wolfram might have crawled in next to him, they had done nothing but sleep. He smiled fondly at the sparring prince, who was taking it rather easy on Devon.

Yuuri was a bit naïve, but he would have had to be a complete fool not to notice the change that had affected his fiancé overnight. "He seems chipper today," he remarked to Murata.

"Shibuya, what are you doing here?"

"Now that Conrart's gone, I figured I ought to ask Wolfram for lessons instead."

"Okay," Murata said, sounding almost as though he was giving permission. Wolfram was distracted a moment, glancing at them, and he smiled. He had no reason to feel worried, even if it was Yuuri.

"Why does it look like he's going easy on Devon?" questioned Yuuri, now sounding rather grumpy.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that the double black king was jealous of Devon. Murata would have laughed if he wasn't so blameworthy; he didn't mind the other boy's misguided conclusions because they protected his relationship with Wolfram to a certain extent. "He's in a rare good humor today, Shibuya."

"Yeah, and it makes me wonder why."

Murata smiled. He knew why. And when Yuuri (or anyone else, for that matter) wasn't looking, he lightly touched his lips and winked at Wolfram. The blonde prince narrowly avoided getting beheaded by Devon when he got momentarily diverted.

"See? Normally he would have seen that coming a mile away!" Yuuri hissed into Murata's ear.

"Maybe he was thinking of other things," the Great Sage put in, amused and feeling faintly guilty, while the cadet apologized profusely. Wolfram was shaking his head and commending Devon instead, and apologizing in his turn for not focusing on their match. "See?"

"What I don't want to know is what exactly he was thinking of," Yuuri said.

Yeah, because if he knew, he would probably have bashed in his friend's head.

"That's enough for today, Devon. Go and practice with Andrew." Andrew, as punishment for his behavior the other night, had been put in charge of training the new recruit. It wasn't really much of a penalty, but Wolfram had allowed for the fact that a.) He had been speaking the truth, b.) He was piss-drunk and would never have said anything other wise and lastly, c.) The cadet had practically begged for his forgiveness the next day—and asked him to give him a harsh sentence.

"So, wimp," he said, turning to Yuuri and Murata. "Give me a twenty minute break before we begin?"

"What, you're tired already?" Yuuri asked.

Wolfram glared at him. "Of course not," he said haughtily. "It'll take a lot more than that to exhaust me. I'm just going to get something up at my room."

My room. Murata's face broke out into a smile. It was really their room, and Wolfram had only been there for one night—okay, three, but the other two weren't really official—but the prince already felt like it was his own. "I… locked it. I'll go up with you and open it."

The demon's eyes held a telltale flash of amusement in them, as though he had been intending this to happen all along. "Okay."

Why did it feel like they were talking in some kind of secret code? "Am I missing something here?" Yuuri asked out loud.

The other two jumped. "Ah… it's an inside joke," Murata said, shrugging.

"An inside joke… about locks?"

"Right," the Great Sage confirmed, grabbing Wolfram's arm. "Don't worry, we'll be right back."

When they were out of earshot, the two of them began to laugh. "An inside joke?" Wolfram said in disbelief. "About locks? That was the best you could come up with?"

"Why didn't you say anything, then? How about—'I'm not going to get anything, I just wanted some alone time with the Great Sage'," Murata teased.

The prince gave him a mock-scowl. "Pervert," he scolded. "It's your fault! You were messing with me during training and I couldn't focus." His cheeks flushed. It was humiliating, having to confess that the mere presence of one boy could throw him off so completely. Especially when he himself had admitted that he wasn't sure what was between them. But it had been so long since he had felt so loved—had he ever felt this loved before?—and he couldn't hide his giddiness. It was all too intoxicating, much more so than all the wine he could have drowned himself in. And it was all going straight to his head.

"But you were being rather obvious today, love," pointed out Murata. "Have to be more careful. Couldn't you thunder and bluster a bit, just to cast suspicion off?"

Wolfram thought about it. "Nope, I can't. Your fault. You made me ridiculously cheerful," he said, lightly punching him on the arm. "You're going to spoil my reputation if you keep making me feel so happy."

"Do you mind?" Murata asked him. He glanced around quickly before planting a light kiss on the blonde's lips.

Letting out a laugh, Wolfram dragged him back to their room. "What do you think?"

A/N: Ack. Approximately 23 pages... what a headache. I'm still working over some parts of what happens next. I won't divulge exactly what I'm concentrating on editing, so I won't spoil the surprise. But for the first time--a positive ending to a chapter! (stands on a chair and cheers like a lunatic) I would also like to take this opportunity to apologize to my Yuuri x Wolfram roots. I'm an addict for the Y x W pairing, but I would still prefer writing the 'road less traveled' pairings like this one.

So... I'll try to update ASAP, once I've finished the next chapter. Remember--more reviews equals faster and longer updates! Thanks for reading!