Howdy folks and welcome to the first chapter of The Musical Mind. Yes, this is a pairing between the three Volturi brother-kings and my OC in a poly-pairing. If you guys don't approve of this idea, you know where the back arrow is. There is also some Bella bashing and a couple other insults to some other characters that I can't think to name right now.

Also, fair warning but I will not be updating this regularly yet. This is just one of many ideas that were screaming to get out, and the updates will be inconsistent depending on my inspiration, willingness, and availability. Keep in mind that I already have several other works that need to be attended to and finished as well. Sorry but this is the way it's gonna be for a bit.

However, don't ever let that stop you. Please feel free to relax, read, and enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any other recognizable works.

Chapter 1: Vacation!? What is This Nonsense?

"Marco Palov, you are under arrest for the murder of your fiancée, Sharon McAlister as well as Arya Bliminse, Ignacia Farfalla, and Victoria Hand-Wolfe," I said with a triumphant, almost vindictive, gleam in my eyes as I slapped a pair of cuffs on the sweating politician. Seriously, I had been waiting, working my butt off for the last month or so for this exact moment right now. Why wouldn't I enjoy this triumph just a little? "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to talk—"

"I know my damn rights bitch!" he cried, red-faced in anger and spit flying into my eyes. Damn, bitch I'll kill her and the lot of them!

"Well okay then, sweetheart," I said dryly, allowing some waiting police officers to take custody of him while I wiped the spittle off my face, expression betraying nothing but slight irritation. "Say it; don't spray it."

My name is Ambrosia Swan, better known as Amber to my friends, close family and anyone else who uses my name on a daily basis. If you haven't guessed already, I am a twenty-three-year-old woman who works for the New York City FBI. I'm also an author as well, but that's a story for another time. Pun intended.

"Good work Swan," my supervisor, Charlie Hawkins, congratulated me, clapping me on the shoulder in an almost fatherly manner, which is ironic since I see him as a bit of a father figure too and my real father's name is Charlie too. "You, Jones, Ruiz, Ivanov and Lawton help the NYPD with the cleanup and evidence recovery while I talk to the captain. I'll see you back at the office to review your reports. Oh, and Swan, after you finish your report, Casey wants to see you about something."

"Uh-oh, what I do wrong now?" I asked in a half-joking kind of way, wondering why the head honcho of the whole division wanted to see me.

Hawkins only shrugged, smirking only a little as he said, "Dunno, but let's hope it's not about switching all the divisions coffee for decaf again."

"Oi! For the millionth time, it was an accident, okay? I was half-asleep when it happened!" I hollered after him as he walked away.

"Sure, just keep telling yourself that."

Huffing with an irritated grumble, I threw my arms up in the air in frustration a little before turning and heading back into the building that had just been stormed, ignoring the other four's chuckling on either side of me.

"Right, let's get this over with," I drawled with a sigh, knowing there was a mountain of paperwork just waiting for me on my desk when this was over. Seriously, there are times when I really love my job, and then there are times when I absolutely despise it.

"I'm sorry, could you please repeat that again? Because I'm pretty sure I just heard you saying that you want me to take a vacation," I said, expression set in surprised disbelief, staring at the NYC FBI director like he had just grown a second head or something.

It was now sunset in New York, and I was in the FBI Director's office for the 'talk' Hawkins had told me about. However, the word's that fell from Director Casey's lips were the last things I had expected to hear from him.

"Correction, Swan, I am ordering you to take a vacation," the tall, white-haired man informed me with his patented 'I am your boss look' that always came out as grandfatherly-looking to me.

"But—"

"Ambrosia, when was the last time you actually took a real vacation and not one of your long weekend's where you do nothing but write new books for two days straight, binge watch movies, or go to the art festivals in town?"

Holding up my finger in an educating manner, I opened my mouth to retort, only to close it shut when I realized that he had actually made a valid point. Reaching back into the depths of my memory, I don't think I could ever recall taking an official vacation like he described since joining the FBI in general.

Seeming to sense my conclusion too, the corners of the man's lips stretched into a small smirk though he remained quite serious. "You see my point? Now it just so happens that I have a ticket here for an all paid expense, month-long vacation to Italy, and I want you to take it," he said, sliding the envelope containing said ticket and other such items—across the desk towards me.

My jaw dropped. "A month in Italy!"

"Yes, it's a pretty good deal, isn't it?" he agreed amicably, despite the slightly shrill tone I used. "You get to go to Rome, Volterra, Florence, et cetera. You should definitely take this."

Fingers shaking (in either excitement or shock, I don't know), I hesitantly picked up the envelope and leafed through the information. "What's the catch?" I asked suspiciously.

"No catch, but you get a real vacation and we at the FBI both get to pay you back for your generosity over the years for the Christmas cookies and presents as well as get a break from you."

I gave him a deadpanned expression. "That wasn't the point of me giving you gifts just so you could pay me back. And anyways, what about work? And my cats? And my editor?"

"Swan, you and I both know that you have saved up enough vacation and sick days to cover an entire year. And Jones, Ruiz, Ivanov, Lawton and Hawkins have already agreed to watch your pets until you get back with an added bonus to FaceTime them. And as for Mr. Barnes, he has readily agreed to this idea already."

Sighing as I rubbed my forehead a little, I chuckled dryly. "You all were in on this and had this planned for the start, didn't you?"

"Plus a few others," the director agreed mysteriously with a small smile. "All that's left for you to do is agree."

It was silent for a moment as I considered this, though it wasn't much of a struggle. Eventually, I exhaled and said, "Fine, you win. When do I leave?"

Triumph played across the man's features as he said, "Half a week from now. Now get out of here Swan. I've got other stuff to do."

"Yes, sir." I gave a mock salute before doing an about-face and exiting the office.

Walking out of the director's office, I took in the usual sight of several desks lined up in rows, some filled with more paperwork than others and several agents rushing about. It was something I had become familiar with for the past couple years.

Taking a deep breath, I then hollered to the room at large, "Alright, who else was in on this?" I made sure to wave the envelope in the air for emphasis though I knew it would not be needed.

Every hand in the room shot up. Several of them were looking at me expectantly, obviously curious to see if I had accepted.

I tried to fix them all with a glare but ended up just huffing a little and smiling as I said, "Thank you everyone."

Cheers went up and several people applauded. If it wasn't the expressions on the faces of the people I helped that made my hard work worthwhile, it was the people I worked alongside that made everything so much sweeter. Damn I love my job.

Opening the door to my darkened home, I was assaulted immediately by the scents I associated with home as I reached out and flipped on the light switch with practiced ease.

Now admittedly, my home in Brooklyn, New York was not the biggest, greatest, or flashiest there was out there but it certainly was comfortable and quite homey. Two stories with one master bedroom and three other empty rooms upstairs—two of which had been converted into an office and an art studio respectively while the other one served as a guest room—and a lovely kitchen, dining, bath and living rooms, it would seem a little big, if a bit lonely, had I been living alone.

"Hello? Anybody home?" I called out to the silent house as I set my stuff down by the door, where a small table sat close at hand, laden with multiple pictures of my father and friends and one of my younger sister too.

"Prowl? Jazz? Where are my handsome men?" I carried on speaking, heading into the kitchen.

Knowing it was pointless to wait for a response, I continued on my way over to the fridge, sticking my head in and eyeing my options for dinner. "Let's see here…"

"Coo-ooh," came the sudden, trilling coo to my left, which was then followed by something soft and fluffy brushing against my legs.

Smiling, I closed the fridge door with a milk carton and stick of butter now in hand. "Hello to you too Jazz. And how is my handsome man today?"

There was another trilling coo from down near my feet as little paws walked across the toes of my Rockport dress shoes.

"Is that so?" I asked conversationally, setting the items on the counter near the stove before heading towards the pantry to grab a box of mac'n'cheese.

There was a third, more demanding warble this time when the pantry was opened, followed by little clawless paws scratching at the frame of the pantry and more increasingly demanding mrowls that almost sounded like actual human words.

Finally taking the time to look down, I was greeted with the sight of my adorable Siamese cat named Jazz. He was the youngest of my two furballs and also the smallest—as in midget sized—which made me think that he wasn't a purebred chocolate-point Siamese like I was first led to believe. Anyways, for a cat, he was quite happy-go-lucky with not a single mean bone in his body as I had never heard him growl or hiss once since I had gotten him. Well, either that or he had been dropped on his head a couple times as a kitten by his mom, which might be true.

"Well aren't you working it for dinner tonight," I teased the cat, reaching down to rub his head with one hand, and a can of turkey flavored Fancy Feast in the other. "Where's your brother Prowl? Did he send you to do his dirty work again? Is he making you work for his dinner too?"

The cat talked some more though it was clear he just wanted the canned food as he immediately shut up and began eating when I cracked open the can and divvied up the food between the two metal bowls I had out. Giving him one last pet, I went back to making myself some macaroni and cheese, smiling when, a couple minutes later, my other cat, Prowl, appeared and began to eat.

"Well hello to you too Prowl," I mocked the large, sleek seal-point Siamese, who hadn't even bothered to acknowledge me. "Honestly, how rude."

Pausing from his meal, the cat looked at me with his sapphire blue eyes, giving me a look before seeming to dismiss me with one flick of his glossy black tail as he went back to eating. Pfft. Cats and their attitudes right?

Shaking my head at them, I went back to making dinner for myself, thinking on what had happened today.

I should probably call dad about this, I realized thoughtfully as I stirred the noodles in with the cheese powder, milk and butter. I haven't talked to him for a while yet either.

All of a sudden, I froze, the iris' of my blue-green eyes unknowingly dilating as my grip tightened on the wooden spoon I was holding.

Blood, blood, fire, diamonds and more blood. Chaos.

Three thrones sat on a lead-colored dais in a room with a drain in the middle. The one on the right had vicious claw marks in it, wolf head designs on the arms and top, and a couple thick pelts covering draped across it too making it look as though it belonged to a warrior king. The left one on the other hand had several multi-colored strings of yarn covering it like spider webs, a silvery strands connecting all three thrones to each other. As for the last one, the one in the middle, it had eyes all over, covering it from top to bottom and staring in every which direction. All of them were magnificent.

There was a blood red curtain or veil fluttering behind them with a crest shaped like a 'V' lined in gold, and little candles surrounded the dais.

And at my feet, in a pool of chaos—wonderfully sweet chaos, give me more! More! More!— bird feathers—a vulture and phoenix's to be exact—and blood was an ornate silver diadem—a circlet really—that was absolutely stunning with diamonds, rubies and polished moonstones shaped like teardrops affixed to it.

Stumbling backwards shakily, I caught myself on the granite island behind me, breathing deeply.

Sorry, I guess I should have mentioned my 'gift'.

You see, ever since I can remember, I've had this odd ability to see and hear things no one else can. It's sort of like a combination between being able to see glimpses of the future, touching object's and getting glimpses of the past, and hearing people's thoughts and/or reading their emotion's. However, I don't think terms like psychometric or telepath, empath or psychic could apply to me because of how my ability functioned.

Hmmm…how do I describe it? Oh, I know! So have you ever read any of the Women of the Otherworld series by Kelley Armstrong? No? Well anyways, there's this character in there named Hope Adams who is what's called a half-demon, an Expisco or Chaos half-demon to be precise. At any rate, basically, she has the ability to sense chaos, a demonic sensor if you will. So, for example, if someone were planning to or thinking of their plan to murder someone, she would likely either hear the though or see it in a vision. And if she were at a murder scene, she could possibly see and/or hear what exactly happened depending on how intense it was and if the murder actually took place there.

Well, that's how my gift works too. I can sense 'chaos' (though on a more powerful scale I think). And like her, I also have similar drawbacks.

For example, if the plot to murder someone was just wishful thinking, I wouldn't hear so much as a whisper, though I may get the impression of severe dislike with the more empathetic aspect of my powers.

And also like Hope, I sort of feed off chaos too. It's like a dessert or drug for me; I can and will get an unhealthy rush or high off of it but I also need it like sugar to keep me functioning otherwise my 'blood-sugar' gets too low, and we all know what happens after that. It's also partially why I joined the FBI, though I always have to be careful at a fresh crime scene or morgue otherwise I would be overwhelmed with visions and drive myself nuts with an overdose. I've come close to it before, and the withdrawal-like symptoms are not fun, let me tell you.

Still, I couldn't help but wonder what that vision had been about. Oftentimes, when I don't purposefully induce a vision, I find that the unintentional ones are more confusing but much more dire too, like a weird chaos version of Spidey-senses.

So what could that have been warning me about?

"Drrrrwah!"

I looked down to find Prowl sitting there on the tiled floor, an almost knowing look on his furry features as my eyes met his. Jazz was next to him too, oddly quiet and still.

"Thanks Prowler, Jazzman," I told them softly, crouching down to pet both of them which elicited lawnmower-like sounds and furry smiles from both of them. They always seemed to know how to comfort me best after a vision. Mind you, they were the only ones who knew about my 'gift'.

Yes, you heard that right. Not even my own family knows about my ability.

Shaking my head, I stood back up and went about filling my bowl again with cheesy noodle goodness, expertly avoiding the four-legged roadblocks that continually got in my way, trying to get attention as I then made my way over to the living room. Plopping down on the cushy leather couch, while the furballs proceeded to race each other up the cat tree and sharpen their nonexistent front claws on the scratching posts as testament to their 'fierceness', I pulled the coffee table closer to me, booting up my waiting laptop, and eating while I did so.

Checking my watch and doing the math, I knew I could possibly catch my dad just as he got home from work or something if I tried to call or FaceTime him now due to the three-hour time difference. But that was only if none of his friends decided to take him out or something.

Figuring I might as well try though, I didn't have to wait long for my father's face to pop up on the screen.

"Hey Sweetpea! How are you doing? How's the city that never sleeps?" my father greeted, smiling at the camera, eyes alight.

Meet my father Charlie Swan. Curly brown hair, warm chocolate-colored eyes, as well as a decent sense of humor and unshakable loyalty, I love him to death as he is probably the best father any girl could ask for. He's been there for me for my entire life, supporting me all the way unlike my mother, who played favorites and doted on my younger sister but disliked—trust me, with my gift I of all people should know this—me for some unknown reason. In any case, he's actually the sheriff of my hometown back in Forks, Washington. And out of him, my mother and baby sister, I would have to say that I am closest to him out of everyone else in our family. But, anyone in my place would be too if your father was the only one that raised you when your own mother wouldn't.

Anyways, in response, I said nonchalantly with a smile, "Hey Dad. I'm great, thanks for asking. We just finished up a case today. That McAlister one I told you about."

He smiled proudly, and I internally puffed up and preened. Throughout my entire college career, everyone except him had told me it was impossible to get degrees in two vastly different curriculums like criminal justice and creative writing. It had ticked me off to no end because I hated when someone said something was impossible for me to do when it really was more than plausible. (It just required a lot of time, money and effort in that scenario is all). However, unlike them, my dad had stood by and said "You can do it kiddo. Don't listen to them. If you want to work for the FBI and write your novels too, do it!" I was where I was today all thanks to him.

"That's great to hear, Sweetpea," he congratulated. "And how's the newest book coming along?"

"Slow," I admitted. "But I'll get there. I just need some new inspiration. All my ideas are getting stale."

"I'm sure you'll do great," he assured, making my smile widen. "So what's new? Is this call just because or is something up kiddo?"

Good old dad, seeing right through me since the day I was born.

"Well today, after we finished our reports, the big boss pulled me aside," I said, deciding to drag out the suspense a little.

My dad's brows shot up, knowing like me that being called into the big boss's office was either really good or really, really bad. "Oooh, that doesn't sound good. What happened?"

"Well, it turns out he wants me to take a 'real' vacation," I told him, putting air quotes around the word 'real'. "He ordered me in fact."

Though he turned away from the camera, I swore I heard the words "about damn time" come through the speakers.

"Dad!"

"What? You know it's true kiddo. You work way too much."

"Dad," I whined. "You're supposed to be on my side."

He held his hands up in surrender, though I could see his eyes still laughing at me. "So when are you coming home?" he tried to placate me.

My face fell at the words. "Actually, they are sending me off to Italy for a month."

"A MONTH IN ITALY?!"

"That's exactly what I said. We really are related."

Despite my attempt at humor, I watched as my dad rubbed his face tiredly, much how I did when I processed unexpected things or was stressed. Eventually, he said, "Italy. Wow. This is the opportunity of a lifetime kiddo. They must think of you highly over there if they're sending you to Italy."

"More like they think they owe me for all the Christmas cookies and birthday presents I get them every year," I muttered.

He laughed at that. "You always were too kind for your own good Amber. I remember every school year all the way through high school you would make goodies baskets for your teachers each Christmas and bake your friend's entire cakes for their birthdays. Everyone always loved them."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean they have to pay me back or anything. I just did it because I wanted to," I said with an eye roll before shaking my head. "Anyways, what's new with you, old man? I noticed you seemed more chipper than before."

"Well, I talked to your mother—" I barely repressed a scowl at the words 'your mother' since I hated being reminded of that woman. "—And it turns out your sister Bella is going to come and live with me for the remainder of high school."

"Let me guess, meanwhile Renée is going to run off into the blue with her newest love interest," I drawled sourly with a small frown.

As I have mentioned before, I don't have a very good relationship with either my mother or sister. The former was always doting on the latter and never seemed to care much for me, holding palpable dislike for me that I managed to pick up on from an early age thanks to my powers. Maybe it's because with my blue-green-grey eyes and butterscotch hair tones and curls, I both reminded her of her mother (whom she didn't get along with) and her former 'ball and chain to be' (my dad).

In any case, the feeling was mutual, as I found her irresponsibility, childish antics and flightiness for 'adventure' grating on my nerves. Not to mention, that I hated how she always treated me like an incompetent child, no matter how old I was, and she always seemed to live in some fairy-tale fantasyland instead of reality. It was quite stupid and made me resent her even more. Not to mention some other incidents too that only served to feed that fire over the years.

As for Bella, well, she reminded me of Renée with her self-centeredness and inability to get a proper reality-check. Plus, we didn't see each other often so our bond as sisters didn't really take off. At least she was somewhat more capable than Renée, but not by much.

Of course, after the fiasco of a blow-out that had happened last time I saw them, I doubted that the status of our relationship had improved any either.

And before you say anything else, I just want to mention that, yes, I am aware that my father has faults too. I am not so in love with him that I can't see them or won't acknowledge them. I just love him enough that I don't care about them.

"Ambrosia," my father said in a scolding tone, using the full name card, much like how my boss had done today. "She's your mother, show her a little more respect. Honestly, I hope this dislike of your mother doesn't have anything to do with me because what happened between me and her—"

"Is between you and her and does not need to come in between how I feel for either of you," I finished, knowing the lecture by heart now though it may have been uttered in different words each time. "I know. Trust me, what's between me and Renée had got nothing to do with you. This is between me and her."

He sighed in relief. "Good. Now what else is new?"

We talked for another hour or so after that before finally bidding each other goodbye and signing off. Already, down the hall to my room, I could hear Prowl's deep meow, ordering me to get to bed like usual if I stayed up too late for his liking. Smart cat.

My vision had all but been completely forgotten by then.

A couple days later, I found myself on an 8+ hour flight from the airport in La Guardia to Rome. A few of my friends from work had even seen me off with promises to take good care of my beloved cats while I was away. If only I knew what awaited me when I reached the Italian city of Volterra though, I probably would have either bought myself a cartload of Excedrin or checked myself into a mental asylum. Or both.

A/N: And there you have it! The beginning of a cute love story.

Please feel free to review, favorite, follow, and check out my polls.

Also, at the end of each chapter, I plan on adding a little section devoted to symbolism describing the elements of visions Amber has. For example, the image I am currently using as a cover image is known as the Symbol of Chaos (with eight arrows in a radial pattern), or also known as a the Chaos Wheel or Star and that name essentially speaks for itself. The multiple arrows represent the infinite possibilities and possibly also confusion.

Candles- light in the darkness; represents the element of fire as a benevolent force.

Phoenix- catharsis, rebirth, purification through death

Vulture- catharsis, purification, renewal

Spiders (and Webs)- they are considered the 'spinners of fate'.

Wolf- sexual predator (i.e. wolf whistle); loner; word lupa (like the wolf goddess, mother to Romulus and Remus, founders of Rome) meant "prostitute" as well as "she-wolf"; fertility symbol; a psychopomp, or creature that that guided the souls of the dead into the Afterlife.

Diamonds- said to shine in the presence of truth and innocence; protection; but diamonds that flash red are supposed to spell impending disaster and swift death (like lightning); believed to absorb both good and bad energy.

Silver- Moon, considered the female metal as opposed to gold; associated with psychic powers and intuition.

Blood- life, energy, vitality, the element of fir and of the sun; red color believed to restore the soul to life; symbolic of kinship aka "bloodlines"; tradition of mixing of blood to show allegiance.

Rubies- vitality, protection

Moonstone- protection; helps focus mind and intentions; talisman or charm used by those seeking love (only when worn on the night of the full moon).

Until next time!