[This is an alternate future where he never met you]

Birds of a feather. His soulmate. His muse. That's what Octave's fiancé meant to him.

She was an angel. A beautiful noblewoman sacrificing her wings of glory just to be with him, a filthy slave with a love for music.

Perhaps the time has simply come. Like how birds long for the sky, she too yearned for the extravagance of her noble life. Afterall, he couldn't provide her with the beautiful dresses she wore, or accompany her to social balls due to his lowly heritage.

She left him for a better man. A stronger one. A richer one. What she didn't know though was that her new lover was cruel, hiring a hitman to get rid of him.

So he lay broken in the alleyway with the splintered remains of his violin, blow after blow connecting with his frail frame as he prayed desperately to the god that had long since abandoned him.

A second chance. That's all he wanted.