Bunnt. W. K: Ahhhhhhhh thank youuuuuuuuuuuuuuu! Senpai has noticed me~~ Yeah! Pushing Daisies is a pretty cute series. It ended at 2 seasons but the director is working on the script to continue the series! It was announced literally a day ago. Talk about good timing. All you have to do is see the pictures of Lee Pace as Ned and auwieunrw4un. Hehe, thank you for your support!

Katarin Kishika: I totally agree with you. Lee Pace is a gift to us all. Thank you!

Cherry-888: Thank you! I had a lot of fun writing it.

Arans: I know! Ned is possibly the dorkiest and cutest man. And have you see the pictures of him standing beside Anna Friel. The difference. Jesus. AND I DID I SAW ON TUMBLR. HE'S WRITING THE SCRIPT. EXCITEMENTTTTTT. 22 Episodes does not do that series justice. Thank you for reading and the support!

Ronan The Accuser

The universe was vast, a seemingly endless sea of stars.

And years ago, she was left drowning in it.

Now, the only thing standing between her and returning to her dreaded fate was the ten inch glass beneath her hand.

The cold glass sent chills up her arm, an uncomfortable reminder that even from her place in the giant warship, she had only traded one prison for another.

However a small part of her was content.

Prior, she had been physically, spiritually, and magically restrained to be shipped to a collector. She had spent nights praying to the gods to save her.

It was short of a godsend that said scavenger ship became a victim of pirating, giving her the window she needed. But the planet she grew to call her new home soon fell under the gaze of Ronan the Accuser.

It was bloodshed, a massacre.

Walking among the corpses, she could only try to save some before she alone stood. She could not even feel a bit of relief in taking down the waves of Sakaaran, death was ultimately an end. Regardless of who performed it.

Then she met him.

The Kree purist.

He stood and represented against everything she lived for, what she loved.

Even bathed in blood, he had called her out on her powers, her being. From that day on, he named her his light. The pure, undisturbed power in her apparently warranted her deserving of her life.

Now all of that seemed so far away.

"If you run, there will be nowhere you can hide," His voice was like rolling thunder, creeping closer with each syllable, "Your soul calls out to me, Priestess."

"It be will be the day when you will call me by my name," Kagome mused softly, turning to meet the intense force that was Ronan, "And you've said that to me over fifty times by now. Perhaps your age has caught up with you."

"Power must be respected by all one's being, including the name. You are a Priestess, so I will address you as so," Ronan spoke with conviction, picking up a stray lock of her black hair. For a moment, he seemed entranced as he rubbed the sleek strands with his blue fingers.

Kagome took the time to observe his face, his mask. Rarely had she seen the face underneath, without the war painted on his face. But then again, she doubted he even saw past who he had become. The black lines were crude and rough, yet artfully done to elicit fear from his victims, enemies, and allies.

"You come to this exact spot when you are upset. What has occurred for you to react so?" Ronan gently placed the pieces of hair back down, artfully pushing it behind her ear and away from her face.

From afar, anyone could hear the demand in his tone. Rather than showing concern, it sounded much more cold, an observation, and an offense.

"Nothing is wrong, for all you know I might be in a constant state of perpetual upset," Kagome teased, she knew better at this point in their relationship. Or at least she hoped.

Something flickered in his indifferent eyes before it settled, the smallest of smirks set on his lips. No words escaped him.

Kagome raised her pale fingers to stroke the blue skin of his jaw carefully avoiding the paint. She was well aware of his constant stare but ignored it in favor of the movement beneath her fingers. Under her touch, his jaw relaxed. She wasn't sure if he was aware of it, but smiled regardless.

There was someone underneath the war-ridden man.

Then she grew bolder.

Without letting go, she drug her fingers down his jaw and to his chin. Her smile faltered the slightest as she ghosted over the rough texture of the paint.

She was gentle to not disrupt the design, but Ronan remained firm and quiet.

Almost uncaring.

Had it been others, they would have fallen where they stood before they could even raise a hand. But her, he could not see to put an end to her light, his light.

He was hyper aware of her touch, but became almost rigid when her fingers slid over his bottom lip from corner to corner. In all their years together, she had never dared to touch him with such familiarity. Her strokes were soft, gentle, and kind. When she pulled herself away from her lingering touch, he worked to hold in the grimace that threatened to take over. Staining her finger tips was the tar-like war paint he donned himself with. He took pride in wearing it, but on her, it was vile.

Before she could mar any other part of herself with the paint, he took her hand and rubbed it away. So involved in his task, he missed the surprise in her eyes.

But the creeping blush was there for all to see.

So when he returned his gaze upon her, she stuttered.

"I-...they missed a spot..."

"I'm sure."

"What! They did!"

If possible, she glowed brighter. Her purity reacting with her emotions, untamed and wild. Like a newly born star.

His lip still tingled from her touch.

Ronan indulged in a full-bellied laugh, sending all those in the immediate vicinity twittering in freight.

The look on Kagome's face when she was escorted into his chambers only to be told she would be the only one with the honor of aiding in his face mask was well worth the change.

But she would not use her hands.

He would see it she would never be stained by war. His war.

For she would be the pure seed in which the Kree culture would thrive in the death of the Xandarians.

For now though, he beckoned her forward. Fully expecting the sudden burst of angry rant escaping her.

"I am not your maid! A-And put some clothes on!-"

His light.