It has been one helluva ride, guys.

I have to say, when I started Songs—back in November, can you believe!—I didn't think it would be widely read. I also didn't think it would get much past ten chapters. 130,000+ words and countless numbers of amazing readers later, I am so, so thankful for what it has become. That's why, at the end of all things, I dedicate this story to you—for reading it, for drawing some fucking fantabulous amazing art, for writing amazing fic, for doing audiobooks (AUDIOBOOKS), and for making me feel, for the first time really ever, that I maybe had a shot at this writing thing. I could spend ages thanking you, because just a simple "thank you" sounds much too shallow, and empty, but know that I mean it. You guys have given me, as Elsa tells Albert, hope that I can carve a living out of this thing called writing, and pardon me while I get sappy, but I really am grateful.

I hope to continue hearing from all you lovely folks! Come over to dreamsalittlebigger on tumblr, where I will continue to post my writing exploits, first and foremost. Come over to say hi, come over to say nothing, stay for the hot men, stay for the writing—come over if you need to talk. I will always be there. :)

And yes. I didn't give you guys a kiss. But that's what fanfiction is for, right? ;) heh heh heh

So thank you all again, for making Songs into what it has become today. This story is dedicated to all my readers—the vocal ones that make me cry on tumblr with their amazingness, the quiet ones that lend me strength through their reading, every single one of you that has taken the time to review, to favorite, to alert—I love you all, and I hope you stick with me for this wild journey called life to see what else I can maybe cook up!

Thanks for all the love and support. Rest assured, I love you all more.

Now, because you've made it through my long-ass author's note…

Stefan adjusts his monocle. He squints down at the script in his hand, the light from the candles wavering in the darkened throne room. "To be," be begins, "Romeo, or not to be. That's a question."

He coughs. He continues—

"I am so clever, that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I'm saying. I think God, in creating man, somewhat overestimated his ability."

He leans on his cane, raising the papers above him and accidentally knocking over a bottle of absinthe. "To love oneself, Romeo, is the beginning of a lifelong romance—"

The doors to the throne room open, and there are his brothers, Lukas (open-mouthed), Marcel (stoic), Josef (scarred), Rupert (more scarred), Felix (unsurprised), Fredrik (laughing), Albert (laughing harder). Stefan says, "This is not what it looks like."

"It looks like you're performing your play in the nude to an audience of zero."

"Then it is exactly what it looks like," He sniffs primly, adjusting his top hat. "Tea?"