Summary: Morena Arcezzi, a poor maid, is taught lessons by a great, wealthy musician who believes she has talent. Despite the enormous difference in their social classes they develop a friendship which is constantly threatened, and which itself threatens to develop into something deeper to the shock of both characters, as Morena climbs to new heights. My first fanfic, enjoy. I'd love some advice positive or negative so please review. Thanks!

Author's Note: Itolnian is based on Italian. C says "ch" before e or i, z says "tz" and r is rolled. If anyone knows much about Italian please give me some tips. Thanks!

Morena entered the room reverently, almost as she would enter a church. This was where he slept. He, in her opinion the greatest of composers. Cautiously, as if afraid her ligt touch would break it, she laid her fingertips on the violin lying on the bed.

She was Morena Arzecci, indentured servant to Viscomt DeMarsais for the past six years since she was twelve. She was from Colista, a port town in the land of Itolni. After her father died when she was eleven, her mother could find no work and she and her family, her four little siblings, were destitute. The Viscount had wandered upon them during a visit to Colista. Observing their desperate situation, he offered to buy Morena as an indentured servant for ten years in exchange for a considerable amount of money. Although it hurt Morena and her mother to agree, they had no choice. The Viscount brought Morena to his manor in Fraznia where she had lived out the past six years. She was far from happy. As a vibrant child she'd played along the wharfs of her native town, charming everyone she met. Her years of servitude had made her taciturn and sad and extremely pensive, masking the vibrancy within. She almost feared her superiors as she'd learned that punishment awaited disobedience. She did not rest from dawn to dusk cleaning and washing and polishing until she collapsed, exhausted at the end of the day only to begin again the next.

She had though, found a source of comfort: music. The Viscount loved it and constantly invited musicians and singers to his manor. Morena was always able to sneak away and listen. Once, a violinist forgot his violin in his bedroom which Morena cleaned. She kept it hidden at the bottom of her trunk and during her few spare minutes alone had taught herself how to play it.

Morena was eighteen. Tall, rather too skinny, with light skin from years of working indoors, black hair and deep, green eyes. Outside she was, as we have said, quiet and respectful, but inside a thousand lively thoughts still danced in her head. She commented to herself on everything. How funny the Viscount looked with his hair cut so. His daughter, Bianca's annoying habit of staring. How the Viscountess always seemed to look like a chipmunk, ready to fight something thrice her size. The result perhaps of her husband berating her on only bearing one child, and a female one at that. Morena rarely laughed though. She was lonely, wishing for someone to meet her to whom she could relate. She still felt like a stranger in this foreign country and most other servants, though not hostile, felt the same and kept their distance from the foreigner.

Right now the Viscount had invited Baron Rodrigo Di Divezi, his father's cousin's son, to spend a few months with him. The Baron was a very wealthy nobleman of Itolni who had cast himself in with the musicians after the death of his parents, resulting in his inheritance. He was generally considered a musical genius. Morena always liked his music best. It stirred something within her; it made her feel happy.

Looking at this beautiful violin that surely Signor Di Devezi himself had touched, she forgot her work and felt drawn to it; longed for it as much as she longed to see her family again. Gently fingering it, she slowly lifted it to her shoulder, laid the bow on it and began to play one of Di Devezi's songs. Playing on that violin made her loose herself in another world from which she was rudely jolted by a sharp voice behind her saying,

"Where did you learn that?"

"I'm sorry Sir." she said turning around and putting down the instrument, her heart beating in panic. The Viscount would be furious if he found out. He hated to be disobeyed and touching a guest's things except to clean them was strictly against regulations.

"Answer me!"

She told him of the left behind violin.

"Play again." he ordered.

"Sir?" she said nervously

"Play!"

Mechanically she picked up the violin and began playing another of Di Divezi's tunes. After a few bars he stopped her.

"You learned to play my music without an instructor?"

"Yes Sir." she admitted then started, "your music? You're Baron Di Divezi!"

"I am."

"I'm sorry Signor, I had no idea." she said, curtseying low, "I won't touch it again."

"You will if I have anything to do with it."

"Signor?"

"Such talent, such technique with no training! How could I let such talent get by me? I'll give you lessons immediately! Never have I seen such talent with no training! What's your name girl?"

"Morena Arzecci, Signor."

"Itolnian?"

"Yes."

"O ki Itolni libede?"

"Ki Colista."

For the first time he looked her over, realizing what she was wearing he realized what she was.

"You're a servant."

"Indentured, Signor."

"Mm," he said still looking her over. If it were anything but music, the Baron would have changed his mind, but music always came first with him, "When can you take lessons?"

"I have no money, Signor"

"When?"

"I have little time. At 10:30 I'm usually free."

"Come then. To my music room; you know it?"

"Yes."

She, Bianca, daughter of a penniless family was being offered the chance to take lessons from a master. The Viscount would have her head for it if he found out. Nevertheless, the usually cautious Bianca gave in to artistic and personal longing.

"Yes, Sir."