A/N: So I know I said five days but...haha I have stuff to do so I decided I'll update now. Then again, this chapter's short. Sorry.

Chapter Warnings: we all know this scene lol

ARC 1: CHAPTER 3
Clotho

-0-

The taste of anticipation rests heavily on his tongue.

There's an abundance of energy that itched under his skin, making him twitchy and restless. It was like something was going to happen, and while it felt neither good nor bad, Harrhan can't help but focus on the negativity. The distinctive quiet calm coming from outside the hut made him feel even more jumpy.

Gamora, having made it her mission to ignore him, spared an irritated glance his way before putting her attention back onto the modest fare in front of them. It was just the two of them, as was the norm in the morning, with Shadom doing the chores that Harrhan hadn't managed to commandeer.

It was just as Harrhan managed to calm himself enough to reach for a bowl of grains that something went wrong.

There was a strange sound and before Harrhan knew it, instincts took over and he was tugging Gamora under the table with him.

The ground shook, accompanying the sound of explosions, the various wares and decorations in the hut rocking and falling over each other. It wasn't long before the sound of panicked screams erupted from outside, interspersed by incoherent shouts and the firing of blaster guns.

Harrhan curls around Gamora as best as he could, eyes trained on the door. She struggles but he's stronger than her. They may not get along, but Harrhan can't just leave her defenseless, and going out there was more dangerous than staying inside.

There's a blast dangerously close to the hut and Harrhan hastens to cover Gamora's mouth as she screams in fright.

"Don't make a sound, Gamora," He murmurs, heart beating loudly over his ears. He can't let his panic get the best of him now, he'd dealt with such situations before but Gamora hasn't. "Keep calm, don't—"

The door burst open and Gamora, already driven by fear, disregards his words and screamed. Upon seeing who had entered, Harrhan nearly let out a sigh of relief to see Shadom looking at them with wide eyes. However, it wasn't meant to be because she was snatched away and one of the creatures (aliens? Warriors?) barges in the small hut.

They are dragged outside and the scene they were met with was both what he expected and not. Everywhere Harrhan looked was destruction.

And in this moment—in this unexpected and gruesome moment— he's once again Harry Potter, looking over a raging battlefield.

He wishes he had trained his magic harder. He wishes he had done more than try to survive, because even with his experience, with his limited magic and considerable strength born of hard work, he wasn't prepared for something like this. Not something that would save anyone but himself. His body was too young, his entire being still too damaged from the last war he had been to.

It wasn't a fair fight. No one in Zen-Whoberi was prepared for an invasion of an army or otherwise.

Gamora was struggling against their captor, punching and kicking futilely.

"Mother!" She screams. "Mother!"

Harrhan twists around the hold against his arm, watching as Shadom struggled and screamed for them too, held and pointed a blade at by one of the many hostile creatures. He numbly wonders why he wasn't doing it as well, instead docilely going with the aggressive motions.

There's someone speaking of choosing sides but Harrhan could only hear the screams of the girl beside him, mind working around the shock and disequilibrium, fighting against impressions of another battlefield that burned with cursed fire and ruin that left nothing in its wake.

While he's distracted, Gamora manages to get herself free.

He snaps to attention when a giant adorned with golden armor approached her, everyone seeming to instinctively part ways for him.

The giant (the titan? The leader of the army?) reeks of power. His mere presence inspired fear and awe at the same breath, his gait confident and sure of his power and authority even as he crouched down in front of a rebelling child. (Why is Gamora there? Why isn't she getting away?)

Thanos, the presence buried in his mind whispers in words, sounding excited, the Mad Titan. The Champion of Death.

And if that wasn't a dangerous omen, Harrhan was sure the fact that he didn't have to decipher any impressions would have thrown him for a loop, because that's how it worked; allowing him to Know without words yet ensuring his grasp of each concept. As it was, the presence was urging him to—

(To do what? What would Harrhan do?)

Without much thought, Harrhan breaks away from the grip his captor has around him.

Another creature tried to grab him but his magic, already restless and taut this entire time and goaded by the presence, lashes out. The creature (soldier? Chitauri?) drops to the ground.

Yes, it whispers—chants—again. Yes.

The chaos covered up his actions (is it dead? Dead? Why is it dead? Why did it die?).

And then he's at a crossroads.

Because suddenly, he's standing between a neatly divided group, the chitauri(?) lined up on each side to keep the struggling zehoberei apart. Gamora and the Mad Titan (Thanos, Thanos, ThanosThanostha—) are in front of him, the Titan holding out a hand for Gamora to take.

It's petrifying.

Harrhan swallows the trepidation and calls, "Gamora," because he can't have her in danger like this. Not to another Being touched by Death.

It does its job to pull the attention to him.

Nothing could have ever prepared him for the focus of the Mad Titan.

Thanos tilts his head consideringly, eyes narrowed in thought. The gaze is piercing, sharp as a blade and thorough in its examination. Nothing could ever escape its notice, not with how incredibly old it seems. Harrhan sees the moment the Titan comes into a decision because he's oddly open with his expressions.

Harrhan's eyes flicker down to Gamora, inhaling a sharp breath when he sees her holding the Titan's hand.

Thanos raised his other hand, palm up and clearly expecting something of Harrhan, "Come here, child."

Go, the presence insists, gogogogo.

Harrhan does, taking the Titan's finger in his hands, proving his limbs to be so, so very small compared to the other. It should frighten him, have him flinch away with caution and reconsider his actions, but it doesn't (because there's a gentleness there that didn't make any sense).

Thanos smiles(and it's genuine. Achingly, dastardly, genuinely pleased).

His eyes flicker over Gamora as Thanos leads them to the only baldaquin left standing in the middle of the chaos. She doesn't look his way, too (trusting? Cautious?) fascinated by the massive being that seems to have taken an interest in them, in her. Harrhan wants to take her hand and drag her away.

The chaos behind them has died down, and Harrhan eyes it with morbid curiosity, hand letting go of the Titan's when urged to.

"Look," Thanos spoke, attention on both him and Gamora and retrieving a metal contraption from his armor.

Harrhan watches with half an eye on the divided crowd (lined like pigs for slaughter, presented to a master's disdain and judging gaze), purposely keeping Gamora's back facing them, as the contraption was revealed to be a double-edged switchblade that the Titan balances on one finger.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Thanos explains, "Perfectly balanced as all things should be. Turn this to one side…" He tilts his hand, "...and the other." It drops but the Titan catches it. "Here, try." He hands it to Gamora.

There's movement in the crowd and Harrhan turns his focus just in time to hear one of the Titan's minions say, "Now go in peace and meet your maker."

Ice cold horror creeps up in him as the chitauri mercilessly killed one side of the divided crowd. His sight narrows in on every fallen body, mind recalling a different kind of war, a different kind of weapon that left no mark other than unseeing eyes (Avada Keda—!). But he's too used to death—too hardened, jaded— to ever let it get to him. (Not now, especially not now. Not with Gamora facing him, not with the Mad Titan's attention on both of them.)

His eyes swivel over to the Titan who was, in turn, staring at him with a gleam in his dark eyes. Distantly, Harrhan is grateful Gamora didn't have to see it, see the slaughter that would have traumatized her even more than just knowing it happened.

(He's glad there's no blood. He's unbelievably relieved there are bodies and there are people left to mourn. He's incredibly grateful it's not cursed fire or people he truly cared about.)

"Why?" Harrhan asks, surprised by how steady his voice sounds. It should waver, like the way every little thing in his mind is doing right now.

Gamora looks away from the blade and turns to him, and there's a trembling realization in her eyes, fierce with fledgling anger and whatever fire had been kindled in her, because Harrhan believed she wasn't stupid. Nothing can cover up the sound of the slaughter happening behind her, not even the heavy weight of the Titan's hand on her shoulder.

And Thanos takes Harrhan's hand into his, still gentle, still—somehow—reverent, as if he truly believes he's holding something precious. As if he hadn't just had millions killed.

Why? He thinks, Why let this happen? Why let them die?

The presence tries to soothe him, filling his mind with lonely, angry, falling apart. Death. Together. Help.

A large finger tilted his chin up and Harrhan was forced to look at the Mad Titan's eyes.

"Salvation," Thanos answered as if it should make sense.

Lonely. Help. Together, the presence repeats, broken and hurried as if it didn't want him to understand yet expects him to, Protect. Death.

Clotho - (Κλωθώ), the spinner of the life thread

A/N: I apologize if there was anyone OoC, but I really liked how Thanos was blatantly manipulative yet genuine (as genuine as that character is). I'm probably stretching some of it and I'd accept anyone who would say something bad. Just know that THIS is my interpretation of MCU Characters and everyone's entitled to their own opinion.

Anyways, hope y'all enjoyed it! See you next week!