Playing the violin was something you loved. Problem? The king, Victor, you had been arranged to marry hated you. He hated everything you did, everything you said, and everytime you were playing he would find a way to complain, even if the melody was beautiful.

You were in the library, playing your violin once again by one of the big windows, and soon felt someone tap your shoulder. You didn’t even have to think to know who it was. ”Will you please for the sake of my ears stop playing that horrendous melody?” He asked, walking to sit in front of you on a chair.