Summary:

[Ronan the Accuser/OFC] 'Inhuman,' he called her, which made her feel less and less the more he addressed her as such. She lost pieces of herself as one might lose pieces to a puzzle. 'The only reason you do not join your kin in death is because you are of use to me. I grant you the right to live, so that I can see to my arrangements without the peril of death. The moment you're lacking in worth, you will fall to judgment.'

A/N: This can quite possibly go down as a Mary-Sue fic. I'm not sorry in advance! I needed a getaway from work and decided to write this thing of a thing… We'll be following the GOTG movie as an outline, but of course, with the OFC present. I wanted her to be ideal, so I gave her a superpower. At first, I was willing to write Crystal x Ronan, but I feel more for Crystal x Quicksilver. This is my own take on Inhuman x Ronan action. I hope you all enjoy it. Feedback is a good motivator for all writers, so feel free to critique as much as you desire.

A/N/N: The OFC will be nameless. Feel free to envision her anyway you choose.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Marvel universe, although I'm sure many of us wish to become part of it.

The Canary's Cage

01 – Metal Strings

The answer isn't found in the dark.

A sound pierced through her ears, for long she'd sat in an empty room neglected with little light, and hardly any noise at all. Any real sound was enough to startle her from her thoughts and it pulled her abrupt from her faraway dreaming. She'd been back on earth, standing outside her home in the fields, taking in a deep breath of fresh air.

It seemed sad to remember the details of a house, when her parents were since forgotten, and reduced to voices in the distance and a coupling of blurred faces.

It was sometime before his reality had conquered and destroyed hers that she wished to recall upon. She was just a child then, walking towards him when she should have been running steadfast in the opposite direction. She was convinced that even death would have been a less unfortunate fate, than to end up captured by the Kree commander.

'Inhuman,' he called her, which made her feel less and less the more he addressed her as such. She lost pieces of herself as one might lose pieces to a puzzle. 'The only reason you do not join your kin in death is because you are of use to me. I grant you the right to live, so that I can see to my arrangements without the peril of death. The moment you're lacking in worth, you will fall to judgment.'

The door to her room opened, the bolts having been twisted to unlock. Exolon monks to the highborn Kree, Ronan the Accuser, came in wearing robes of black. They only came to her whenever it was time to eat, allowing her to sustain herself with small rations of food and water to drink. She was incredibly thin and short for a human. The deep blue garb she wore (skin color of the Kree Empire) loosely clung to her now womanly figure. Much had changed about the girl, but time stood still in her cage.

Her concern was gauged from the fact that it wasn't time to eat and that his servants were standing there with a look of expectancy. She followed after them when they turned to leave. Hala was a beautiful place, not that she had spent much time outside the walls of her bedroom to explore. She was given drawing paper and the city was one of the first things she drew, having committed it to memory.

'He's finally going to kill me,' was a thought that suddenly plagued her mind. The more frightening part about it was that she found it to be inviting. She hadn't been placed in any situation that meant assisting him. He was known as the Supreme Accuser, noble by blood, and proven as competent. When would he actually be in need of her aid?

It was ridiculous enough to make her laugh, if she could even accomplish that much. Being isolated had done nothing for her vocal cords. She doubted she could carry on a normal conversation anymore.

They went aboard the Dark Aster, a ship the girl had never seen in her time. There were shots fired once the doors closed and she trembled at the sounds of the Kree educational system. Hala wasn't attacking them openly or else she would have been dead long ago. Gunfire simply wasn't something she was used to hearing. The large ship gave a monstrous roar as it flew towards the galaxy.

She walked down the long corridor with a visible shiver. The halls consisted of dark mechanical structures that were dimly lit. She could already feel the ache building in her tired limbs from having been inactive. She felt fragile on an uncomfortable level, swaying slightly until they entered what appeared to be a rather large chamber room, where the monks stopped. She collapsed with her hands planted on the floor, when she heard the sigh of metal latches releasing.

More servants gathered, as a tall broad figure walked forth from the shadows. The lighting in the room was scarce and pale, making it difficult to see properly. It became clear when a set of dark purple eyes caught her staring at him. They glowed unnatural against his blue skin, as he stood there proudly with nothing to keep her eyes from roaming over his bare form. The servants poured water upon his skin and scrubbed him clean, before throwing speckled powder over him in ritual.

She had not glimpsed at him, let alone taken a look at him properly since she was a child. He was often in her nightmares, glaring at her in the same accusatory manner as the present. It was enough to make her skin crawl. She prayed he discovered that even he could miscalculate, that she did not have superpowers after all, and that she did not come from a line of Inhumans (whatever that meant, she had no idea). The power she supposedly possessed could resurrect the dead within a substantial amount of time and circumstance. If he was hopeful that she'd do that for him willingly, then he was more insane than she originally pegged him for. And she had plenty of time to mull it over while in captivity.

The monks applied black war paint to his face, before dressing him into his armor. He was in full detail just as she remembered, both terrifying and intense. A hand on her arm ushered her and they trailed after Ronan into another room where a man was shackled in place at the center of it. Coming from earth, she didn't recognize his species or where he came from.

"They call me terrorist, radical, zealot, because I obey the ancient laws of my people, the Kree, and punish those who do not, because I do not forgive your people for taking the life of my father and his father, and his father before him." The man shook, whether out of fear or pain she did not know. Her fingers were burning, prickling at the tips of them. It felt like a pulse was beating fast beneath them. "A thousand years of war between us will not be forgotten."

"You can't do this! Our government signed a peace treaty!"

"My government knows no shame." Ronan walked towards the monk holding the Universal Weapon and lifted it with ease. "You Xandarians and your culture are a disease."

"You…will never rule Xandar."

"No. I will cure it!" She watched on in sheer horror, as Ronan raised the hammer above his head and brought it down with a guttural sound of rage. The scream at the back of her throat came out hushed like a whisper. She was on her knees as the shock paralyzed her legs. Her hand reached out, as the other clenched onto her stomach. She felt nauseated and dizzy, but something kept her grounded, and it was pulling her towards the deceased.

Ronan handed the Universal Weapon over to be washed, his eyes darting towards the female on the floor, narrowing as her hand outstretched and a light poured through her fingertips. He flashed to her side within an instant and hauled her up by her arm. The glow against her skin dissipated and was replaced with pain, as his hold on her arm threatened to break the bone.

"You would dare use your power to give life to a Nova Corp soldier?" He pulled her closer when she did not answer him immediately. The force of his grip had her standing on her toes, staring into the menacing anger on his face, which equaled the dark and even tone of his voice when he spoke, "Should I break your hand? Feel it crumble into pieces…"

"No! Please…" She felt frightened, not knowing what she was capable of anymore. A white light had just magically appeared and then melted away by her doing. She didn't know much of anything and the fact that he knew more, than she did only made it worse.

"Please? It would please me to know that you won't be making anymore foolish errors." He drew his fingers from her arm to her hand, squeezing it until she gasped out in agony. It was a pleasant sound, he determined, one of which he wasn't at all averse to hearing. "You must learn, so that you can be judged."

The mere thought of her bringing anyone back to life without his consent was enough to throw him into the deep. Ronan knew he was outside himself, driven mad with politics and beliefs. He had to be careful with her, knowing very well that her existence could wage war among many, even his own people. And he was only interested in one battle at the present, if a battle is what you'd call it. Ronan would only find solace in the success of committing mass genocide on the Xandarian race.

"I don't know how it works, I…didn't… know I was using it," she answered truthfully after awhile, the pain subsiding the further she slipped away. A part of her wanted to add that she would not bring a man back to life just so he could die again and probably in a more gruesome manner in spite of her blunder.

She watched the purebred Kree for as long as she could muster, whilst making a feeble effort to resist the darkness taking over. This was the only way she could plead, since she could no longer speak, and soon she descended into the empty void of unconsciousness, succumbing to a dark sleep.

TBC…M?