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The sweet symphonic sound, the brightest lights, expectations high, the fall a hard one if you were not to succeed. I was drawn to it, the stage, a test of my mastery, always I wished to play. Gather, they would, my audience I would please. My violin’s melody and I mesmerizing them all, smitten to its brilliance, its song they would so lustfully desire.

And though this wish might never to be grant, might never to be heard, not mention nor spoken, I still stand before the looking glass. Till the day when their eyes are focused on thee, endlessly practicing the perfect tune, till my fingers they bled, harmonic melody at aims, my ambition as ever so high, I would obtain such glory… when the melodies match up.

“Uggggh…” I groaned angrily, yet another spring had popped on the violin’s neck, fine and true but its majesty growing old, I never would set foot to the stage with the worn string. Rich family I was of, the roof above thy head a beautiful mansion atop a hill beside a bustling town of busy peasants, thane father being the fourth and current Earl of Jersey, myself, soon to succeed him as the fifth. The Renaissance age was upon us, as the arts were full in bloom, the painters were painting, many a scientific discovery, a fascinating time of prosperity and production.

Though it was true, I was of noble kind, though my violin, scratched from constant play, worn of age, tuning pegs no longer holding taught delicate strings, could not acquire a replacement. Reasons not of poverty, of lacking or such confines, but the confinement of the heart, a treasured gift passed down through generation, from father to son, a magnificent violin and its practices’ song. Never could I let it go, but for thy to have used another, my heartstrings to be yanked and broken, a disappointing betrayal to the name Villiers and all whom bore it before me.

The string of said violin, sprung begrudgingly for the fifth time in this song, drawing a scarlet line. I winced, this happened every once in a long while. Carefully I cleaned off the excess with the tip of my ring finger; it’s callas from my long hard practice rubbing softly over the cut. Licking the crimson liquid from its tip with a scowl; I turned in the direction of the entrance to the second parlour.

“Jeeves!” I called loudly, my voice echoed through the high ceilings, but not loud enough to be heard through the entire villa.

“Je-” I began again impatiently, before I could end my call he arrived to my presence, with a courteous bow, he answered. “I apologize for the delay; Louise had another run in with your bloodhound…” He looked up at me, flicking his brunette strands out of his face carelessly, his green eyes shown worry for Louise, within good reasoning. My dog, Abbott, had a fearful tendency of being ferocious towards the servants and guests… most everyone.

“That’s fine.” I handed him the violin and its bow. “Put this away safely in my quarters.” I commanded. He accepted the instrument and held it with care; bowing again he turned to leave but stopped and faced me.

“Young master, would you like me to prepare some tea as well. Tis’ nearly tea time.”

“Some pastries too, Jeeves.”

“As you wish.” Jeeves left to complete his tasks as I wandered the parlour, settling myself, folding one leg over the other, with the comfy love seat embroidered with fine tipped yellow roses before the luxurious marble fire place.
I didn’t wish to displease the family name, but truly I did desire a new violin, it wouldn’t happen, I couldn’t request one from Father only to fathom his heart further, since mother died, nothing but a soulless puppet. Paid attention to neither my sisters nor I, going about his business as though to think we had never existed.

Twas a saddening subject, many an argument was to be had with him since then, all of which lost. It was no longer worth putting effort into, with luck, he would soon wither away leaving myself, the oldest as the new Earl of Jersey, as sad as it was to think such treasons towards my own father.

“Your tea, young master?” Jeeves asked with a cocked eyebrow, snapping me from my thoughts. “Huh? Oh, yes.” Accepting the saucer and tea cup from him I sipped the fine English brew that Jeeves was so well known for. Not too strong, not too subtle of flavor, and just enough sugar, exactly how I liked it. I smiled, staring into the swirling browned liquid.

“Thank you, Jeeves.”

“And there is a package that has arrived for you I found in the foyer, would you like it?” He held out a package, wrapped in paper, with nothing signifying who may have sent it, my full name scrawled out in narrow cursive handwriting, ‘Robyn Mayhew Villiers’.

“Yes, indeed.” Taking the package from the butler’s arms I waved him off nonchalantly, bowing respectfully, he exited the parlour. Pulling the heavy weight into my lap, I eyed it carefully, stripping it cautiously to, to my surprise a carven redwood violin case, detailed to the very edge. The excitement welled within me; it was exactly what I had needed.

Crumpling up the wrapping I tossed them aside, finding an envelope beside it. The note of parchment, red wax pressed with the seal of twin serpents, the envelope too, was for me as my name was scrawled in the same red handwriting.

Tearing open the envelope carefully, I unfolded the letter carefully, the sickening, metallic aroma of fresh blood it reeked, inside the note read:

Robyn,

I entrust you this to use with care, I am a great fan of your work. With this I hope that you may reach your highest ambitions.

Lucifer

Lucifer… the name sent chills down my spine as I reread the letter. I was never of religious kind, but even I knew who bared that name. Lucifer was the Satin’s angel name. Though I doubted the notes being from satin himself, a great player I did think myself but it was not likely that I could be deemed worthy by any higher force. But a fan at this stage…?

Who ever Lucifer may be, it did not matter. What mattered was that with this I could make it some where, playing the greatest songs of world renowned composers, composing my own sonatas as well. How great it would be… My ambitions and dreams, they did grow, with this I would at long last reach my goals, many a noble would soon enough be at one of my rhapsody’s beck and call.

Setting the letter aside, victoriously I opened the grand case, removing the magnificent instrument from its detailed abode; the violin matched the finery of its case tenfold. Its scroll more magnificent then that of thy old violin, effortless shine, engraved the name, ‘Lucifer’, its obvious original owner. Drawing its bow to the string, my placement on the finger boards, softly the note came, swiftly ending, followed by the next.

Enticing, mystery of that of the forbidden fruit, wrong but so right, soured but so delicious, a song of desire, succulently, sickeningly sweet, such rhapsody, so inescapably so, that I could not stop as the song advanced, growing more intriguing, more righteous, more difficult but alas I could not stop now, the melody.

Not a piece could match neither this tune, not Beethoven, nor any composer alike, such work could only be made me. I myself alone had the power with this to create some many a thing, but as human that wish would never be grant for my mistakes of the past, deceived I had been.

Whence it may have been I had tried to stop, at this point I did not know, but I could not continue, as my fingers bloodied, I was exhausted and drained, I could not stop as the piece became harder, more difficult it had seemed, not a bit could be put forth to help the matter. Still confined to playing as if to another’s whim, I struggled, I cried, trying all I could to escape this fate, but still as though controlled by a master of marionettes, painfully onward against my will the song went on.

I knew what was to happen next, as my studies had brought me to learn this tale before. Such a fool I was, forgetting that lesson, as it alone was a favorite story my tutor told on request. Still resisting I knew the next scene well, as the butler, yes indeed, Jeeves entranced the room smugly smirking, fixating his eyes on me, clapping as he grinned. I watched still playing as he came closer; his hair grew out changing a midnight ebony black, his eyes… the scarlet of blood fresh from a battle field’s wound.

With a snap of his fingers, the hellish song ended, I dropped the violin; it landed with a clatter as I collapsed to my knees. Breathing quickly, I could hear my heart in my chest; my fate was sealed as it was a deal with the devil I would face. My lengthy blonde hair the had fell into my eyes, with luck sheltered my tears as the divine Satin came closer, step by step, each echoing through the parlour, ensuring my absolute, inevitable, unavoidable doom.

He stopped before the abandoned violin, lifting it to his shoulder, he began to play, a fine tune of sadness, misery, loneliness, hatred, revenge… so many an emotion, so many stories that song, it did tell. Passionately he played, caressing the neck of the violin like that of a treasured lover, when the piece at long last ended, me still sitting on my knees, the tears welled in my eyes. The music had consumed me within, my ambitions clouding my better judgment and common sense.

As he placed the violin in its case with a cherishing look, he snapped shut the brass hinges, giving the carven, detailed case, now spattered in my blood, to me. He walked with out a word to the edge of the room, and as though surprised by my delay to follow, turned and beckoned me into the darkness… as that now I was a slave of this demon, I did the only thing I could, follow. How ironic it is, the servant I treated so bitterly, now my master as Satin himself…

This demon’s trick had lead me astray, what a fool, what a dolt I was, my fate was sealed, as it was I would play for Lucifer eternities on end, both living and dead, this day I would dread. As now my soul was for his taking the moment I opened its encasing. Though the limelight I did receive, performances, great recitals as I had perceived, it was soured and broken as it was I knew it, I was a slave to it.

Now my melodies broken, forlorn and lost I knew just how, Lucifer’s song had grown to such as mine did as well… When that day, I was brought to his chambers I knew well enough the song he had heard was not what had gotten, as a caged bird sings only of its sorrows, the free bird sings of many a happiness; as that free bird’s songs harmony, now as useless as his, my songs of the same sorrows as he...