AU: I own a Cullen Crest wristband, and necklace, and a Team Edward bracelet. Unfortunately, I don't own Twilight. If I did there would have been a lot zaidi Edward and a lot less Jacob. Kinda this chapter. As I promised, Edward. Have fun. Huge thanks to state of delusion for fixing my mistakes.

Chapter 3

Spiraling

I'm waiting for my moment to come,

I'm waiting for the movie to begin,

I waiting for a revelation,

I'm waiting for someone to count me in.

'Cause now I only see my dreams, in everything I touch,

Feel their cold hands on everything that I Love.

Cold like some magnificent skyline,

Out of my reach but always in my eye line.

-Keane

EPOV

muziki notes ran though my head in an incomplete loop. The notes started and stopped in odd places, wandering in and out of the same melody that had been haunting my waking and sleeping mind for most of my life. It was starting to give me a headache. If I could just get it to shut up for just a little while, that would be great.

I groaned and hit my head against the head rest. Being a musical prodigy really sucked sometimes. I stood up, moving over to the overhead bin to collect my muziki paper. Might as well try to get something constructive done while I had several hours of uninterrupted time.

I settled back into the window seat, and started uandishi the bila mpangilio notes down, leaving space between for all the blank spaces in the music. It was hardly the first time I had done this exercise. My apartment back in New York was full of these same pages, the notes were the same, the melody the same, the blank spaces the same. What little I had of this piece was good, it was soft and sweet, but it lacked depth. I had played it to one of my professors at Juilliard. He alisema it was good, even if incomplete. Each time I stopped to write it down, I tried to fill the empty spaces just a little bit more, but it just didn't work. Once, when I was fifteen, I had tried so hard to fill the blank spaces that I gave myself a migraine. Mom had thought there was something wrong with me.

I had learned since then that I wrote my best pieces when I just let the notes come naturally. So, I leaned back into my kiti, kiti cha and wrote the notes just as they came to me. Within ten dakika though, the pages looked just like any of the others I had done over the years. I sighed sharply, and threw them back into the bag I had placed at my feet. Nothing ever changes.

zaidi for something to do than any real worry, I looked down the aisle of the plane looking for the hulking form of my best friend. He had alisema he was just going to go to the restroom, but knowing him, there was no telling what kind of trouble he was getting into. I sure hoped he got it out of his system before we landed in Paris and met this envoy. The last thing I needed was for the big idiot to get us kicked out before we even got there.

"Excuse me?" The pretty blond flight attendant broke though my morose musings. Her wide, honest blue eyes were worried. I guess I wasn't the best, most well adjusted person. I sighed, and ran my fingers though my wild, flyaway hair. "Can I get wewe a drink au something?"

I shook my head. "Thank you, though." It was amazing the difference between first class and business class. "You couldn't tell me where my friend's run off to, could you?"

She smiled and giggled. "He's back there." She pointed toward the flight attendant's kitchenette. "He's really funny."

"Yeah, he's a riot," I muttered darkly, standing up. "Thank you."

I marched up the aisle toward the sound of deep laughter and high-pitched giggling. Peeking around the corner, I saw my best friend, Emmett, with several other young attractive women. Emmett told the ngumi, punch line of whatever rude joke he was telling and the girls broke out in a fresh round of giggling. I walked into the already small space, and placed a pleasant smile on my face.

"I'm sorry ladies," I said, while discreetly grabbing a fist full of Emmett's shirt. "But I'm afraid I have need of my friend here."

They smiled and said, "Not a problem," while I dragged my burly, six-foot-four best friend back to our seat. "What the hell, Emmett?" I hissed.

"What? They're just cute chicks." He smiled, his baby blue eyes bright and wide with faked innocence. I groaned.

"Emmett, wewe can't go around chatting up and sleeping with every woman wewe see," I hissed. He was going to get us in trouble with his womanizing ways. I needed this chance, much zaidi than he even realized. "When we get to the Court, wewe have to reign yourself in. Sleep with the wrong person's daughter, and you'll get us both thrown out."

"Chill out, Eddie," he snorted, "I do have some sense of propriety, wewe know."

I looked at him incredulously. "Really, because wewe didn't onyesha it when we were in school. And wewe know I hate that nickname."

Emmett just laughed. Getting him to take something seriously was inayofuata to impossible. He'd always been that way though. From the time we met in third grade on, Emmett had been a prankster, a jokester, and an uncontrollable ladies man. I, however, was the muziki nerd who was zaidi comfortable behind my kinanda than in a group of people. That had changed some over the years as I grew up, but I still preferred the company of my kinanda over most people.

I was born and raised in New York City. My family was fairly wealthy. My father, Carlisle, was a surgeon, while my mother, Esme, stayed nyumbani to raise me, although she did work for various charities and organizations. They were both caring, compassionate people. They placed zaidi value in their family and relationships than in their money and positions. They had passed those traits on to me. I honestly couldn't ask for better parents.

Mom had realized I had a talent for muziki kwa the time I was eighteen months old, au so she told me. She had some kind of charity event at the New York symphony, and as I was a quiet and well behaved child she decided to take me with her. She alisema that I couldn't keep my eyes off the musicians in front of me, particularly the pianist. Evidently, when I got nyumbani I was trying to replay the melodies I had heard on my tiny, five-keyed toy piano. She got me lessons shortly afterward and the rest, as they say, is history.

I composed my first original piece when I five. It was a song for my mother. I've expounded on it since then, but it's mostly the same shape as when I wrote it. I won my first competition a mwaka later. I was the new child prodigy; everyone was looking to see what I, a seven mwaka old, would come up with next. It's a lot for any seven mwaka old. My parents wanted me to have as normal a childhood as possible, so they pulled me out of that world. They thought it was too much and they didn't want me to grow up too fast. They didn't forbid me from playing the piano, quite the opposite, they encouraged it. They merely cut me out of competitions, managers, and record labels. It was the best thing they ever did, even my professors agreed with me on that. They kept me from burning out before I really started getting good.

So, there I was, a socially awkward third grader who would have preferred to stay behind his kinanda all the time. I didn't really relate to the other kids, I was picked on and teased. The first half of that mwaka was awful. Then, after the krisimasi holidays, Emmett moved into town.

He was originally from West Virginia, from up in the Appalachian Mountains. His father had just gotten a job in New York. He packed up the family, Emmett's mom and his four younger siblings, and moved them all. Emmett would have been picked on for being the new kid, except that he was huge even then. Everyone was scared of him. He also had a great personality, a rambunctious troublemaker. Everything wewe needed to be maarufu in school.

One day, though, he caught some other kids teasing me because I was playing an invisible piano. I don't have to have a kinanda to write music, and that's what I was doing. Emmett stepped in and defended me. We've been best Marafiki ever since.

"Come on, Eddie." He grinned inayofuata to me on the airplane. "Relax. It's an adventure. Besides, I hardly think they're gonna throw wewe out of Edelweiss. One day, when you're a big shot, playing all your greatest hits at..." he paused for a moment, "I don't know, whatever the best tamasha hall is, it would be too good to get to say, 'Yeah, we totally made him. Had him first."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I muttered. "They could still throw wewe out though."

"I'm only here for your mom, Edward."

I grinned. "Then wewe picture her face when she picks wewe up at JFK after leaving her only son alone in a strange land."

Emmett's ruddy face went white, as he no doubt pictured my mother's distraught brown eyes and disappointed smile; the same one he had received too many times to count. I laughed at his horror stricken face.

"That's what I thought," I alisema as I settled back into my seat. My mother treated Emmett like the sekunde son she never got to have. She disciplined him just like she did me. Though sometimes I think she loved him zaidi than she did me, typical.

I started competing again my sophomore mwaka of high school kwa my own choice. I was good, and everyone admitted it. When I graduated, the obvious choice was Juilliard. I had no trouble getting in. The classes were hard at first, but after the first semester it was great. I enjoyed being in a setting that encouraged creativity rather than stagnation. I loved my time in school. Emmett had gone to a local school as well, studying business. We would get together on the weekends and mostly just goof off.

It was while I was in my sekunde mwaka that I first heard of the tiny European county of Edelweiss. It was high up in the Alps, between Switzerland and France. Most people didn't even know it existed. It had been founded in the Middle Ages, kwa a French Duke who had Lost land in one of the numerous wars. He made a wealthy living off silver mining in the area, and established his own kingdom, making himself king. His line is still there, ruling.

With their wealth, they had decided in the fifteen hundreds that they should use it to fund the arts. They invited artists and musicians of all kinds to come and work in their court. That tradition continued to this day.

That's how I heard about them. I had a friend I met at Juilliard, Robert, who was a couple years older than me. He was invited to jiunge them for a mwaka after he graduated. He alisema it was great.

I had graduated this past May with high honors. I had gone to one my professors, Professor Maryweather, for advice. I honestly didn't know where to go au what to do after I graduated. Professor Maryweather was my musical mentor, so I knew he would have an idea as to what I should be doing. Sure enough, he did. He had already sent one of my taped recitals to his contact in the Edelweiss government. They wanted to offer me a two-year contract to go there and work. I was ecstatic, it was somewhere to begin and it got me out of New York. Everything I wanted. I immediately told them yes.

There was just one hitch. My Mom was distraught at the thought of me going kwa myself to a different land, where she wouldn't see me for two years. She just couldn't handle it, so she went to Professor Maryweather, who is also one of my parents friends, and told him to try to get Emmett invited to go along. It was crazy. Emmett was not an artist, kwa any stretch of means. The best he could draw was a stick figure, and he couldn't even tell the difference between a clarinet and a tuba.

Somehow, Professor Maryweather had worked out a deal. Emmett could go as well, if he was willing to study military training under the royal guard while he stayed there. Emmett had seemed excited about it, and it kept my mother happy. If I were being honest though, I was glad to have Emmett along. It would be nice to have someone there I knew. I couldn't really think of anyone else I'd rather come with, either. I hadn't had a girlfriend in about a mwaka and a half, not after Victoria anyway.

I shook my head before I could let my mind wonder any farther. Vicki was not a subject I felt like rehashing at the moment. I glanced over at Emmett to find he was completely off our pervious subject and was kusoma some sports magazine with a half naked woman on the front. "You realize that wewe are never going to find a steady girlfriend if wewe keep kusoma that magazine in broad daylight, right?"

He shrugged and didn't remove his eyes from the paper as he replied, "Yeah, well, who needs a steady girlfriend. Besides, you're hardly one to talk Mr. I-keep-my-nose-buried-in-music-notation Cullen."

I snorted. "Dream on, Emmett. Most women find the whole tortured musician thing pretty sexy."

"Yeah? How did that work out for you, Eddie?" He eyed me incredulously from over the edge of his magazine. He couldn't believe I had just alisema that. Truth be told, nether could I.

"Point taken," I muttered.

He nodded and turned back to his magazine. I sighed. It didn't matter anyway, I hadn't sworn off woman, but I wasn't looking for a girlfriend. I had decided to be patient and wait for the right one to come around, if she ever did. I wasn't holding my breath. I was fine kwa myself anyway.

We still had several hours left in the flight, so I pulled my muziki notes back out and set out to fill in the blank spaces. I didn't know why I was bothering. Emmett put down his magazine and glanced over at my half filled pages.

"That thing again?" he asked. "When are wewe ever gonna give up on it? You've been trying to finish it for years now."

Emmett, King of Tact, I thought bitterly. I rolled my eyes at him. "Just because I can't finish it now, doesn't mean I never will. I just have to find the right inspiration, that's all."

"Oh, a muse," Emmett said, drawing out his words like he was a kid looking at a bb gun. "That what ya need, Eddie? A girl?" he raised his eyebrows comically.

Making a quick tafuta to make sure there were not any flight attendants near by, I smacked the back of head with my notebook so that it made a resounding "smack" sound. Several of the other passengers glanced our way, no doubt thinking we were insane, before turning back to there own pursuits.

"Ow," he whined like a big baby. "That hurt."

"Oh, shut up," I told him, turning back to my work.

He left me alone till the plane was coming in for a landing in Paris. He could no doubt sense my fowl mood, and knew better than to say something stupid and make it worse.

"So, who are we suppose to meet at the airport?" he asked as we buckled our kiti, kiti cha belts. "What's he like, a lord au something?"

I sighed as I watched Paris in the early evening light. "He's not a lord," I answered him. "He's just supposed to be an assistant to the Queen, Mr. Eleazar Garcia. He's supposed to see us the rest of the ways to the Alps."

"So, people can't just go to the country on their own?"

I rolled my eyes; he was so dense. "Of course they can, Emmett. Something like forty eight percent of their economy is tourism. We're just being escorted because they are paying me to live with them and write music. It's a bit of a big deal."

We made our way off the plane and through customs in record time. After grabbing our luggage, we started looking for Mr. Garcia. I had been told to look for a tall, dark haired man in a black suit. It didn't really help though, as there were several men fitting that description that I could see. I hope he had a good description of us. Of course, Emmett's hard to miss in a crowd, too.

We had just gotten past the luggage carousel for gates fourteen, fifteen and sixteen, when a man fitting the description I had been aliyopewa walked up to the two of us. He was tall, though not as tall as I was, maybe six feet. His skin was a tan color and his eyes were a dark brown. He walked with a sense of purpose, and his gaze was fixed and unwavering.

"Edward Cullen?" he asked, with just a hint of a Spanish accent.

I nodded and held out my hand. "Mr. Garcia?"

He laughed and smiled as he shook my hand, his white teeth flashing in the florescent light. "Please, just call me Eleazar. Mr. Garcia was my father. wewe must be Emmett McCarthy."

While Eleazar shook Emmett's hand, I took the opportunity to study him. He looked to be in his mid to late thirties. His jet black hair was just starting to turn grey and was thinning at the temples. His face was lined with wrinkles; though whether they were laugh lines au worry lines I couldn't tell. He held himself with a sense of dignity and purpose, back straight, chest out, and those dark eyes saw zaidi than most people could, I could tell. He wore a wedding ring on his finger, but other than that there was no other sign of who he was au where he was from.

"I'm sure you're both tired from your flight," he alisema as he guided us though the airport. "So, I will explain everything to wewe as we walk. We will be staying here in Paris for the rest of today and tomorrow. I have some business to attend to, but wewe should feel free to explore the city if wewe like. The only thing I will need from wewe tomorrow is your measurements for tuxes."

"What for?" Emmett wrinkled his nose up. He hated getting dressed up.

Eleazar smirked. "Believe me, Mr. McCarthy, I completely understand. I, as well, hate getting dressed up. We have an annual ball on Saturday night that wewe will be expected to attend."

Emmett groaned, and I had to suppress a chuckle. Emmett loved to party, but he hated fancy parties. They "cramped his style".

"I can give wewe my measurements." I was always having to get suits for recitals and the like. "You'll have to get Emmett measured though. I can't remember the last time he had to dress up for something."

"My aunt's wedding, when I was ten," he grouched.

"I'll send a tailor up to your suite." Eleazar smiled and guided us outside to the crisp evening air. There was a long black limousine pulled up at the curb. I was not expecting Eleazar to go over to it. Emmett and I both stopped dead in our tracks. A limo, really?

"Damn," I heard Emmett mutter under his breath. I had to agree with the sentiment. A limo just to pick up the two of us? There was nothing really special about us. It was the first time I thought that I may have been in over my head. It wouldn't be the last time either.

Emmett and I numbly made our way over to the limo and let the driver take our bags and place them in the truck. Eleazar was already in the limo so we climbed in. It was extravagant, with everything in it just like wewe see on TV. The seats were made of fine black leather with the two seats facing each other and a large open space between. This arrangement meant there was a great deal of leg room which, when you're 6'2" and most of it in the legs, was always a plus. Once we were settled, the driver pulled out into traffic.

"We'll leave from here two mornings from now. We will fly to Chamonix but from there we will have to drive. It will take all to siku to get there, so we will stay at a tiny French hamlet before getting there the inayofuata day. I'm sorry, that doesn't give wewe much time before the ball, as we won't get there before Friday, and the ball is on Saturday."

"It's fine," I muttered. Evidently, I had a busy week ahead of me. I knew jet lag would set in soon, as well. I wasn't tired, but I would like to go to sleep as soon as possible. "Where will we be staying?"

"The Hotel Plaza Athenee. We'll be there in just a minute," he told us.

I watched the Parisian landscape pass kwa through the dark tinted windows. Night had fallen completely kwa this point, and the buildings were lit up kwa hundreds of tiny lights. It was beautiful. Never the less, I was thrilled when the limousine pulled up in front of one particularly ornate building and stopped.

Eleazar climbed out, with Emmett and I following. He motioned for a bellhop to grab our bags out of the shina before Emmett and I could grab them ourselves. Eleazar did not spare a sekunde glance as we made our way into the plush, gleaming lobby. The floor was made out of marble and there was a huge crystal chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. Everything was polished and shining. I swear Emmett sucked in a deep breath as we walked in. We may have been from New York, but our families were not this wealthy. We couldn't have even dreamed of staying in a place like this. I for one was afraid to even touch anything.

Eleazar led us up the elevator to one of the upper floors. From there he showed us to our suite. There was a grand sitting room with large, comfortable looking furniture and thick carpeting. Across from the door we entered through, the ukuta was made out of glass looking out across the Parisian skyline. The Eiffel Tower was visible because of the thousands of tiny lights that outlined it.

"If wewe want anything from the hotel, just call them. They know who to charge." Eleazar ushered us inside, the bellhops following and disappearing though the side doors. "If wewe need anything from me, I'll be across the hall. Have a good night."

"Thank you," I called as he and bellhops exited the room.

"Well." Emmett glanced around the room. "Looks like we've come up in the world."

I nodded and lazily went to stand kwa the window.

Emmett sighed. "Fine, be that way. I'm gonna order some food. Call your mom." He turned to the chakula menu, knowing he wasn't going to be able get anything out of me. He was right though, I did need to call Mom.

She picked up on the first ring. "Edward?"

"Hey Mom, we're in Paris."

"Good." She sighed, her sweet voice releasing the tension it had held just moments ago. "You know I worry when you're flying."

I smiled into the phone. "Yeah, I know. We're staying here tomorrow though, so wewe don't have to worry about it for a while."

She laughed. "You Father says "hi" kwa the way."

I smiled and fought the sudden tears that threatened my eyes. I'm twenty-four; I'm not supposed to get nyumbani sick any more. "Yeah, tell him I alisema 'hi' too."

She was silent for a moment before asking, "Are wewe alright, Edward?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat and fought to make my voice sound lighter as I said, "Yeah, I'm great, Mom."

"Okay." She sighed. "Tell Emmett I alisema 'hi'. Call us if wewe need anything."

We alisema our good byes and hung up the phone. I Lost myself in the wave of emotions. I suddenly found myself missing New York. I missed my parents, my apartment, and my piano. I missed home, and this hotel room, nice as it was, was not home.

Maybe it was all too much, too fast. I couldn't turn back now though. Call me crazy, but I was following a sense of destiny. I guess leaving the safety and comfort of nyumbani is always hard. It felt like there was something I was supposed to be running toward.

I shook my head to clear the doubts and shadows. The chakula Emmett had ordered had arrived and the smell was making me hungry. Food, Emmett goofing off, and then sleep were in order. Those were all normal enough things.

One siku at a time. I had no idea what was ahead of me, and I certainly didn't realized just how much my life was about to change. Dad had always told me to take it one siku at a time, the rest would take care of itself. So that's what I vowed to do.

AU: Well, tell me, was it worth the wait? I personally like this chapter, but it could just be me. Leave me a review and let me know. inayofuata time we're back to Bella and Jacob. Its still good though. See ya then!