I look out the window and watch the galaxy shoot past my view, with a sign I return my gaze back to the papers I've been order to read before landing. My landing will coincide with the beginning of Xandar's trial of the Kree zealot, Ronan the Accuser. I read through the papers, skimming the facts of his multiple charges of murder and attempted genocide. How could one male be so strong? My hands tremble and I have to take a second to close my eyes and collect my thoughts. We should count ourselves lucky that Earth has too much Oxygen for the Kree to comfortably live on. The books I read indicate that they require higher levels of Nitrogen than Earth is capable of producing. Terra, I can't allow myself to forget that the aliens know our planet as Terra.

I flip to the information sheet about the Kree Empire and its people. With skin a mixture of glittering blue and purple, and violet eyes that appear to have black vines crossing the whites, they are a fearsome race. Their seven foot frames and Hercules like strength is what most species fear, and with good reason. I flip to the page about Ronan in specific. As the head of the Accusers, Ronan is without equal to his people. This male that bathes in Xandarian blood and challenges Titans, what chance would we stand against such raw power?

I feel the ship buckle as it settles upon Xandar's mass, I failed to even notice we entered its atmosphere. As I disembark, I look across the city until my eyes land on my destination. It stands, gold and bright, towering over all of the other buildings. It stands out like a beacon of hope, yet this is where I've been told we are to decide on a man's life or death. I become so lost in its splendor that it takes a hand gripping my arm to pull my attention away and towards my guard. Ah yes, I nearly forgot about this one. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s insurance policy that I stay in line. Strawberry colored hair and pale green eyes would have made this man attractive had it of not been for his blank stare and the frown etched across his lips, lips that have permission to kill me if I'm deemed a liability. He has the power to bring a death plague with even the most innocent of kisses; Paroxysm is this man's name.

We take a Xandarian transporter to the tower and enter the room. There had been hushed talk before our entrance, so the echoes of conversations dead whisper through the room. To see such a gathering of species is a privilege very few Terrans are granted. My gaze sweeps across the room as I try to take it all in. A lean figure that I assume to be male, watches from a side glance, his amber gaze disappears behind a collection of curled horns that meet at one joining on the top of his head. His face is long like a lizard's and his orange skin shines as if it is wet. I turn to look at the other ambassadors, ranging from color to shapes; some showing razor sharp teeth while others looking as if they have none at all. Compared to them, I probably look more like a meal than an equal.

My inspection is cut short by the tight squeeze on my shoulder, pulling my attention to the two Terran looking middle aged women that is walking towards us. I let out a sigh of relief, maybe I'm not at as much of a disadvantage as I originally thought. The one with hair as white as fresh snow and warm dark eyes introduces herself as Nova Prime, head of the Nova Corp. I remember reading about how the Nova Corp was one of Ronan's largest issues, and how they managed to slow down his advancements towards Xandar by at least five years. What catches me off guard is when the woman with chestnut colored hair and cold black eyes introduces herself as Adora, Queen of Xandar. I've seen pictures of her, so I shouldn't be so surprised, but it's the dark emotions swirling in her eyes that makes me consider taking a step back. I don't understand what I did to incur such wrath, but upon inspection, I observe her gaze looking slightly to the left of my face. Turning, I take in what truly enthralls her malice.

I could have looked at his pictures for months and nothing would have prepared me to come face to face with Ronan the Accuser. Covered head to foot in chains, he stands with perfect posture and an authoritative air that few are born with. I don't consider myself a particularly short woman, yet I can't stop the blood from draining from my face as he stops in front of me and my eyes level with his torso. Taking a step back, I gaze up to meet his stare and note how his eyes flash as if light is shining on polished amethyst while taking in my appearance, before darkening to the color of a cold night as they settle on the man next to me. This reaction wasn't particularly unusual, Paroxysm has always had a talent for bring out the worst in people.

I wonder if those chains are strong enough, I can see the strain as muscles bunch and Ronan raises his head, in a way I've only ever seen displayed in aggressive horses. Before much can start, a sharp clap rings out throughout the room, vibrating off the walls for a solid five seconds before it is all quiet once again.

"Now," the queen speaks "our trial shall begin, may all the representatives take their seats."