A/N: Another nitty-gritty hand wavy chapter ahead guys. (I swear everything's hand wavy for me in this fandom.) And there's a lot of ambiguity going around in this one. This is also the longest chapter I have lmao but pls don't expect chapters to be this long. The word count avg per chapter is 2500 so...
Chapter Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death (wait does it count?), the Black Order, Minor Unreliable Narrator moments
ARC 1: CHAPTER 5
Soteria
-0-
The Infinity stones.
Six elemental crystals, remnants of six singularities, that control an essential aspect of existence. When one can wield at least a single piece, they hold a key to ruling the universe, the entire existence. (Not Death, because Death is Non-Existence and cannot be controlled. Nothing can hold anything over Death.)
And his father gave him one to wield.
The Mind stone.
Harrhan spends a moment amusing himself with this twist.
Nothing could ever convince Harrhan that taking away someone's will was something he should do. Especially not when he had the means to do so.
(Not when it's so easy. Not when it makes him recoil with revulsion.)
That was a line that he would never cross. He'd had one too many bad experience of having someone else trample all over his mind, of violating him in a way that would never be physical but perverting his very essence.
(The Imperius. Snape and his Occlumency lessons. Voldemort and his horcrux. Dumbledore and his casual use of legilimency.
Ironically, his own Magic had built amazing resistance once he stopped limiting himself.)
It would make sense, in a way.
Harrhan's mind was a fortress that no one, nothing, could enter or bend to their will. No, not when he'd suffered under enough of those manipulations. Not when fear fused and melded with an intense drive to prevent anything like it to ever occur once again. He's not infallible, not with conscious agency—his ability to make decisions, to feel emotions—but one of his strengths had laid on his indomitable will.
(The Master of Death. The Will of Death.)
Delicately brushing a finger on the protective crystal encasing the amber stone, Harrhan allows his Magic to wrap around it and draw it out. It passes through the complex wards imbued in the crystalline material like it would air.
The Mind stone pulses, glowing as it hovered before his eyes.
Only beings of immense power can wield it directly. When handled by those too weak or deemed unworthy, the stone would take and take and take until there is nothing left, greedy and arrogant and volatile as they all are.
He touches it and smiles at the pleasant hum. Confident now, he encloses it within his hand and basks in the power that danced with his own and the presence buried in his mind.
Ours, echoed through his mind, coming from nowhere and everywhere at once.
The Mind stone, for all its power over consciousness and will, has chosen someone who would think millions of times before using it. Had chosen someone, perhaps the only one, who could defend—fight—against it on his own.
Take the King for your own before the war and you have no enemies.
The stone glowed with what felt akin to amusement.
Harrhan puts it back in its place in the scepter.
-0-
Thanos had him come with Ebony Maw to deal with the resistance from one of the planets under their rule.
Harrhan wouldn't deny the spark of excitement at finally getting out of the Sanctuary.
It's an odd journey, filled with silence that neither wish to disturb. Harrhan, by nature and thereof been enforced, was quiet. Ebony Maw seemed content to bask in it with contentment. It took Harrhan a few moments to realize why despite it being comfortable, the silence disquieted him.
This is the first time they had ever been together without the expectation of training and fighting, teaching and learning; the first time when Harrhan doesn't have to treat Ebony Maw like a god and not have himself punished for insubstantial crimes including but not limited to: impertinence and breathing too fast.
He had gained the other's approval, but Ebony Maw was as far from predictable as Lucius Malfoy had been. Lies upon lies created his being.
Harrhan tilts his head to gaze at his companion, studying the languidly levitating form as Ebony Maw meditates.
"What are we?" Harrhan asks softly, his voice quiet with disuse. The sudden question would have been taken as rude by anyone else and would have earned him a punishment, but not now. There had been a change, Harrhan knew, but he didn't know what.
Maw doesn't twitch or otherwise show his question was heard. Harrhan waits, knowing enough that the other was aware of everything despite how he may act.
It's hours, maybe days later when Maw answers him.
"Brothers," He says with a tilt of his head, "Comrades. Equals. Our Lord has named you his child, gave you a weapon crafted for you. You are no apprentice of mine any longer. I hold no power over you."
Harrhan nods, feeling light at the declaration.
They come back leaving nothing but debris of what used to be a planet that dared house the gathering army of a resistance. They work well together.
-0-
The Black Order was a tale of great inspiration.
They are the elite, the generals of Thanos the Mad Titan. They are untouchable and deadly and incredibly dangerous. Being one of them was the greatest honor to ever achieve. Being spoken at by one of them, being in the same room as one of them would be enough to make more than a few others envious.
It's a twisted, convoluted form of idolatry, but in a place full of violence and misery, it's what makes you dangerous that matters. The idea of being untouchable is enough of an inspiration to many.
And the way to do that?
Earn the favor of Thanos. Be the best, the most dangerous, the most powerful and useful.
The Black Order is all of those things.
Harrhan, now, is also all of those things, but he's also grown in the same environment that breathed the worship of the Black Order. He may have a level-head, may have been far above the maturity of his peers, but he's not immune to such blatant social influence.
Yes, he'd spent large amounts of time being beaten to the ground by Ebony Maw and Thanos himself. Had basically lived in their presence in the last decades. Earned both of their acknowledgement and approval.
That doesn't stop the skip of his heartbeat in the face of Proxima Midnight and her husband, Corvus Glaive. Harrhan ends up fidgeting with the gloves he'd taken to wearing years ago when he'd first picked up a weapon.
And directly against her intimidating and bloodthirsty visage, Proxima Midnight smiles at him. It's a tiny quirk of the lip, inscrutable to many others and derisive to those who could see it, but Harrhan had learned how to read into the tiniest movements when Maw had him under his mercy. It had been a necessity, the other being too controlled and composed for Harrhan to ever hope to understand.
Husband and wife create a formidable couple. Proxima Midnight with her deadly efficiency in many types of combat, and Corvus Glaive with his masterful strategies that could easily turn anything to his advantage.
Harrhan manages to get a hold of himself to give a respectful nod, barely stopping the urge to curve lower into a bow. Maw would have mocked him greatly if he had.
They convene into the assembly room where Corvus Glaive outlines their plan of action against the traitors who dare steal from one of their allies. Harrhan takes the time to admire the brilliance of the other male and the ruthlessness displayed by both.
Ruthless. Cruel.
Later, once they finish their mission, Harrhan is staring at the carnage they have wrought.
The air is heavy with the stench of ozone and blood and smoke, overpowering the natural scent of the heady mix of the atmosphere's gases. Harrhan himself was clean despite the wreckage all around him, still agitated and restless after a battle.
The scepter hummed in his hand, glowing and vibrating with the power he had allowed through it, heightened by the blood that had been spilled.
His eyes stray to the bodies strewn about. All lifeless and lying on the ground like puppets with their strings cut without notice.
No one stood a chance.
(How far had he come?)
They were all traitors against the reign of his father, anyway.
Harrhan returns to the ship, taking the time to walk and leap over the destroyed parts of what had once been a town full of life. He briefly considers cleaning them up, to heal a wound he had created. It's a remnant urge to help, one that has no place in where he is now.
Proxima Midnight stood there, white eyes observing the landscape of destruction and overseeing the troops they have brought with them. Her face is unreadable, her stance relaxed but gauntleted hand never parting away from her weapon. (None of them do. Their weapons are more than just weapons. They are gifts—precious and priceless and more than they deserve.) She looks as if they didn't just raze an entire civilization in a bid to show other would-be traitors not to cross them.
Harrhan makes his way to her, standing a bit behind her to wait for what she may tell him to do.
She doesn't face him but she does address him after a few moments.
"You did well," she says.
The flutter of pride he feels at those words makes him smile.
Inside the ship, Corvus Glaive raises a hand and pats him on the head with a smirk that would have sent shivers down his spine if he let it.
Harrhan allows himself to bask in the feeling of acceptance.
(How far had he fallen?)
-0-
The scepter floated before him, the gem glowing yellow as it always does when being interacted with. Harrhan was in midst of interfacing with the Mind stone, assimilating to their strengthening bond and exploring the extent of what it can and can't do with his influence. The stone communicated much like the presence did, offering impressions and feelings that mean everything and nothing at the same time.
Then there was a disruption of air right behind him and Harrhan apparates away just in time for an enormous hammer to crash where he was.
His eyes snap to the perpetrator, feeling a little thrill climb up spine as he sees the grinning form of Cull Obsidian.
"Let's see what everyone's been talking about, boy," his voice held a growl to it, one that Harrhan takes as a challenge.
Instead of answering, Harrhan grins back and forms his own attack.
Everything dissolves into the familiar movements of dodging and forming his own attacks. Magic came so easily at his beck and call, unhindered and bolstered by the scepter. The Mind stone watches the spectacle, alert and ready to help but mostly languid and content with doing nothing inside its container.
Harrhan was nowhere near the strength Cull Obsidian possessed, but that was where he had the advantage.
Cull Obsidian's weakness lie on his dependence on that strength, his chosen weapon only adding to the windows of opportunities Harrhan needs to land decent hits. Every forceful attack required Cull Obsidian to brace himself for a few milliseconds, leaving him at a disadvantage against a fast opponent.
Harrhan had always relied on his speed and agility, his magical prowess notwithstanding, but Cull Obsidian also had the advantage of years of experience.
Despite these obvious differences between them, their fight lasted for hours.
Had they been fighting to kill, it would have been done faster with the winner going either way, but both enjoyed the thrill of battle and have purposefully let the other slip away from situations that would have ended their little game.
It's odd... to fight for the sake of fighting.
Odd but refreshing.
They end it as a draw, neither willing to let the other win.
"Not bad," Cull Obsidian grumbled, his large hand wrapped around Harrhan's throat, but had the scepter pointed right at his, the tip glowing red threateningly.
Harrhan just inclines his head, lets his magic repair the damage they had done once Cull Obsidian let go.
(It clears his head, made thinking easier.)
-0-
(He'd fallen so, so far and he hadn't noticed it.)
-0-
Harrhan stood beside Thanos, face impassive as he watches a familiar scene unfold before him.
All around them, the inhabitants of the planet they have invaded screamed in fright. Some fought but were no match for their army. Their culture had been interesting, having a few members of their population able to reproduce asexually. Harrhan wasn't particularly keen on learning how that happens, but his father had decided he needed to know.
It's a blessing, he said.
Harrhan thinks that whatever causes a planet to become an interest to the Titan shouldn't be called a blessing.
They remain rooted in one spot, the Titan content to let their army do the work and Harrhan awaiting what would be asked of him. There was a moment when Harrhan wondered if he could get to see Thanos pick his chosen but so far, his father hadn't made a move from his makeshift throne.
"I heard what your brothers and sisters are saying of you," Thanos suddenly spoke, drawing Harrhan's attention away from the morbid fascination he was sinking into, as the chitauri displayed their ruthlessness. "And I hear high praise. Well done, Harrhan."
Harrhan shifts into a bow, "Thank you, father."
Thanos's gaze shifted to his scepter before continuing, "I trust you well know what you hold."
Harrhan's hand unconsciously caress the crystal and a smile tugs on his lips, "Of course. We have bonded."
"I'm glad to see I was not wrong in my assumption," Thanos hums in clear appreciation. There's a lull in their conversation but Harrhan doesn't pull his attention away from the Titan, aware that there may still be something to be discussed.
He was proven correct when Thanos gives him a communication device set to operate off-world and would reach the Sanctuary wherever it may be. It's a piece of technology he himself had had a hand in creating, combining his Magic, an insignificant fraction of the Mind stone's capabilities, and the already existing technology they possess. Harrhan takes it, curiosity gleaming from his eyes.
"I have heard whispers that Praxius IX holds the Orb that I seek," Thanos explains.
Harrhan nods, but senses that there is more to it. Thanos doesn't share anything that he is not sure of, not even suspicions.
"However, I do not trust the source of this information." That much had been clear before. "Regardless, I chose to send Gamora and Nebula in search of it."
Harrhan only blinks at the name but picks up on what his father wants him to do, "And you wish to send me with them?"
There's a pause in their conversation when the chitauri have succeeded in their task. Harrhan hesitates for just a second—a second too long—before signaling his order of execution. The chitauri show no mercy in slaughtering well over half of the population.
Harrhan wonders if his silence was more horrifying than Maw's endless tirade of choosing sides and gratefulness for meeting their creator.
(He'd fallen so far, but he doesn't care.
Family, he thinks. Selfish, immediately follows.)
"In my stead, yes." If Thanos thought anything of his reactions, he doesn't show it.
For his part, Harrhan barely blinks before nodding his acceptance, "As you will it, father."
-0-
"What are you doing here?"
Harrhan doesn't react to the spiteful question, only staring at the woman before him.
Gamora had grown well.
He's glad to note that there had been no conspicuous changes, glad to see that the years have treated her as fine as their circumstance ever could. She's beautiful even with those silver markings on her face, eyes still holding that fire of determination. It didn't matter that it burned of hatred on him.
They never saw each other since that day and last he had heard, Thanos had her training somewhere else.
She's alive and kept her fire. She's stronger now, with a name that is known all across the galaxy.
"I'm here because father told me to accompany you on your mission." He lets a smile grace his lips, deciding that showing his genuine delight at seeing her was better than being impassive, "I'm glad to see you have grown up well, Gamora."
If Harrhan said those words to aggravate the other zehoberei, no one would know.
"Sure." Even if she tried, Gamora can't hide her annoyance. Her jaw is clenched and shoulders too tense. Her gaze trails over to the scepter in his hand, eyes narrowing in thought, "I see you have a new weapon."
Harrhan nods, hand trailing over the Mind stone as had become his habit whenever someone notices it. There's also a beautiful set of twin blades hidden well on her person but he doesn't comment. He remains silent instead of answering the unvoiced prompt, having grown fond of not speaking much. Father didn't seem to mind, and no one in the Black Order begrudges any quirks.
"And I see you still haven't changed a bit." She nearly spits it out when the silence got too much for her.
(Changed? He's changed. He's changed a lot.)
But Harrhan continues to smile, watches as Gamora seethes with annoyance. It's amusing that even with years apart, Harrhan receives such a visceral reaction. It's good, though, because it means her fire has only grown stronger.
He's distracted when Nebula arrives.
If Gamora had remained untouched, Nebula was the complete opposite. Gone were her lustrous hair, head shaved clean with a quarter of it visibly replaced by metal. Her eyes weren't hers either, and her gait too straight, too rigid even for a luphomoid.
Harrhan allows the twinge of pity.
He must've looked too long, or maybe she was just paranoid, but Gamora subtly steps in front of Nebula in a bid to protect her.
It's charming if it wasn't unnecessary. (And he's irked to note that she's still taller than he is. They both are.)
"Shall we?" Harrhan finally says, tilting his head expectantly. He's here to facilitate, not to lead.
-0-
Harrhan learns why Nebula had come to be in such a state that she was more machine than organic material.
She's stubborn, headstrong, and didn't think things through enough. She's led by her emotions, and if it weren't for her manically desperate loyalty, Nebula wouldn't have lasted long. As it was, her being caught in a trap has already alerted parties Harrhan didn't want to deal with right now. Besides that, she had obviously failed the test their father had given.
Gamora—valiant, compassionate, fiery Gamora—wanted to save her.
"Leave her," Harrhan says. "It's a lesson she must learn."
"She'll die," Gamora fires back, voice a touch pleading as his Magic held her in place. "Whatever heart you have left in there, you can't just let her die."
Harrhan wants to say she won't because he won't let it happen, but the point of this was to test each other. Thanos had sent him both as a test and genuine trust in his decisions. Harrhan wasn't about to fail his father's expectations even if something inside him aches at the frantic look in Gamora's face.
The Mind stone pulses, giving him the strength to continue, "Then she never deserved to be a daughter of Thanos."
With that, he apparates them back on the ship.
-0-
Nebula makes it back without an arm.
Gamora rages at him.
-0-
"What troubles you, my child?"
Harrhan blinks from where he had been playing with the Mind stone, eyes trailing up to meet his father's. Thanos casually plucks the Mind stone from the air, admiring it against the darkness of the throne room where stars shine in the vast openness of space.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Thanos continues, still scrutinizing the stone. It's not glowing even though Harrhan knew Thanos could wield it just as he can. "Such power in something so small." The Titan's eyes meet his as his father offers the stone back by levitating it to him. "It reminds me of you. Strong, unyielding. Worthy."
Harrhan lets the stone drop on his hands, fidgets with it with his fingers. It glows.
"Gamora has called me to a challenge," He answers instead, knowing full well that Thanos favors her as well.
A pensieve silence falls over the Titan. Then Harrhan finds himself with the Titan's hand on his cheek, his father's eyes shining with affection. Love.
"Then so be it," Thanos intones minutes later, orders with a decisive tone. "Let it be a challenge to the death."
Harrhan closes his eyes and grips the stone hard.
(Family is selfish.)
-0-
Harrhan does as the Mind stone asked; links the power of the scepter to the Space stone that existed so, so far away from them.
He mourns the loss of the ever changing color of his Magic as the scepter glowed a blue hue. It's a sacrifice he's more than willing to give for his father's goals, dreams.
-0-
When all comes down to it, Gamora was no match for him.
Harrhan knows this.
He caresses the Mind stone and for the first time, uses its power as it was intended to be.
-0-
The day of their challenge came.
(Harrhan remembers. Next time.)
Only Thanos stood as their audience, something Harrhan felt relieved by, because there had been one thing he didn't account for. It shouldn't matter.
(Family.)
Gamora stood before him, their position familiar and a mirror of a day years ago. (Even through the years, the decades, he can't forget.) This time they're older, more experienced, stronger. This time, their fight would end with only one of them able to stand. None of them speak.
They start.
They're on equal footing, Harrhan relying on hand to hand with tiny bursts of his Magic. He finds as little use to his scepter as possible. It feels different now; more powerful, a little bit less his.
"Harrhan."
It was one word, just his name, but Harrhan heard the reprimand. The warning.
Next time, you don't hold back.
Harrhan grits his teeth, looks at Gamora who's relentless in her attack. He raises the scepter, letting out a bolt of blue energy that wasn't his. He fights a little bit more seriously, plays up the theatrics of using everything.
(He hopes Thanos believes it. Hopes that he won't notice until it was too late.
The presence acquiesced.)
Gamora gave as good as she got, deflecting his attacks, landing more and more hits on him. More and more blood spilled between them.
Time stretches out into gruelling minutes. Harrhan lets himself slip up, falling for a trap that had Gamora's twin blades buried in his chest in quick succession. It doesn't hurt, nothing does now. She lets it slide up, sure to slice over a lung and a handful more of organs.
Harrhan stares at Gamora's eyes.
Blue.
He smiles.
Gamora blinks, the blue bleeding away into brown. She's startled but doesn't show it, then she catches sight of him, bleeding heavily and drowning on his own blood.
There's a deafening silence.
Harrhan reaches up a shaky hand, touches a finger on her cheek, hesitant to touch but wanting to, "I'm sorry." For what I did. For everything. I'm sorry.
Gamora frowns, confusion warring disbelief (and worry? Was that worry? Maybe Gamora still cared for him. Harrhan hopes she doesn't.)
Then Harrhan rolls his head to look at Thanos—his father—and feels a deep sorrow at the tears he sees even through his blurring sight.
"Why?" It's faint, so, so different from the Mad Titan that razed planets without remorse. Because now, he wasn't Thanos, the Destroyer of Worlds. He's Thanos, the father who only cared to see his children grow and reach their potential. Many wouldn't believe it, but the Titan was capable of many emotions, blinded as he and they were with his chosen path of death and tyranny.
Oh.
Love.
Harrhan reaches out with his Magic, already feeling his consciousness slip.
She's worth it, Harrhan whispered in his father's mind, tries his best to soothe the sorrow threatening to overcome the other. Let this be my penance.
Then he sinks into Death's embrace.
(Family is selfish. Harrhan wants to save what he could.)
Soteria - (Σωτηρία), female personification of safety, preservation, and deliverance from harm
I'M SO SORRY?
The ratio for Marvel canon in this is- 95% MCU, 3% me filling in the blanks, and 2% Comics (or Future Fight). The comic-verse is so small because I follow it sparsely at best and have only three comics at worst. So I'm pretty much rooted in MCU.
And MCU wasn't really able to expound on the characters of the Black Order so I had to resort to research. But I have huge issues with my attention span so I ended up writing this with what I managed to process within 2 hours. So if I ever offended anyone who loves the Black Order, I'm sorry.
As for the ending… haha? It's- uh- my way of not moving too much in canon. Harrhan was never meant to be the main focus of the fic, I'm sorry if anyone became very invested (I did, and it hurt to do this).
Thank y'all for reading! (Quick P.S. to my reviewers: I'm glad to know you are all interested by this fic :) and I hope I won't disappoint.)
Okay, so I've gotten a few people confused, and I apologize. This is not the end of the story and while I said Harrhan was not meant to be the main focus, I mean it as that Harrhan the incarnation wasn't or have y'all forgotten the Master of Death thing. You haven't seen the last of him yet.