Chapter Text
The world used to have many nations that thrived and grew and prospered. At least, that was what Q had gathered from his studies in history. From what he could gather, several of these countries allowed their citizens to move freely within the various social classes if they achieved the proper skills. Q would often wonder what it would have been like to live in one of those old nations: living under a single flag, while knowing that all expanses of the planet lived in the same fashion; to know he could choose the life he wanted to live as long as he worked hard enough.
It must have been nice.
But the world was different now. War and disaster had all but obliterated the old nation lines, setting the planet up as a blank canvas, and those who could gather land and power the fastest had their pick of land. The politically savvy rose to the top quickly and, as generations passed, new social lines had been developed.
It was never written down, who exactly had come up with the way of identifying a person by a single dominating trait: Body, Mind, Heart, Soul; but the system had stuck. Even from a young age, children were identified by their strongest traits, and for the rest of their lives, they would be known by that strength. It was as clear as if it was written on their faces, considering everyone bore tattoos on their arms and neck with the color that was meant to symbolize their trait.
It had never bothered Q that much to walk around blue ink twisting around his arms and neck, symbolizing his power of Mind. But then again, Q had never had to want for anything in his life. He had been born in the glorious palace of Neo Britannia, the youngest of three princes, all brilliant Minds. He had always been given the best of everything: best food, best clothes, and the best education, anything he could ever want was his to have.
In the gilded gates of the palace, it hardly mattered if one wore blue, green, yellow, or red markings. After all, the markings only told what a person’s strongest trait was.
Q knew better. He had, on several occasions, ventured out into the city under the cover of anonymity. It was there he saw the empire (he couldn’t call his nation anything else but an empire) from the point of view of the outsider.
He saw the banners glorifying his oldest brother, who had taken up ruling after the passing of their mother. He also saw how the Traits had become their own way of social castes.
Q and his brothers were all Minds, and so Q saw that those who wore blue ink were treated with respect. They became doctors, lawyers, educators.
But the rest…
Q saw how children were turned away from schools because they were red or green or yellow, he saw infants who had been abandoned (if not drowned) for no other reason than they were the “wrong” color.
He saw how unbalanced his homeland was. They were coming up with all sorts of advances in medicine, engineering, technology…
But the nation was crippled, starving and unable to support itself. There were little farmers who could grow or raise food, or merchants encouraging trade.
There were few soldiers to protect the citizens.
Even in the confines of the palace, he knew Neo Britannia was on the brink of war. News reached his ears long before his brother had called him into his office.
“There has been unrest in the West.” His brother had said calmly, “There is talk of revolution in the future.”
“We can’t have that, can we?” Q replied dryly.
The other man paid him no mind, “We have been negotiating with our neighbors to the north in order to form a more…cohesive military power.” He steepled his fingers, “Things have been progressing favorably, though there is the matter of your marriage to finalize the agreement.”
Q’s heart almost stopped, “Marriage?”
“You’re to wed Prince James of Skyfall the week following your 16th birthday.”
Both brothers knew that it was not a question or a request, but a statement, a command. His brother may have spoken of negotiations and alliances, but Q knew that he had just been sold in marriage. A prince in exchange for an army.
Never before had Q dreaded his birthday than the day he turned 16. A convoy from Skyfall arrived, with Prince James among them. The last thing Q wanted to do was meet his soon to be husband, but his brothers were hardly going to let him avoid the confrontation.
And so he stood in between his brothers as they greeted their guests, dread gathering in his stomach as he anticipated meeting the man he would spend the rest of his life with.
Prince James was not much older than Q, which was a small relief, and the other looked just as thrilled about their upcoming marriage as Q was. Other than that, Q had to admit he liked the way the prince looked. He was handsome enough, in a rugged fashion that was foreign to Q and his life in Neo Britannia, and he had a strong build, which wasn’t unexpected given the green ink of Body that wrapped around his neck and arms.
“Look how well matched they look…” The socialites gossiped throughout the party, eager to spread the latest news.
“Prince James is so rugged, and the young prince is so delicate. It’s just like the old stories.”
“Look, their eyes even match each other’s Traits.”
Q wanted to roll his eyes at the utter garbage he kept hearing from party goers. Just because a lot of them had blue ink of the Mind didn’t mean they actually used their minds. It was a waste really. And Q failed to see the romance in his arranged marriage.
Apparently Prince James felt the same, considering the fact Q had not seen him once during the party. His brothers had even scolded him for letting his fiancé out of sight.
“It looks bad on all of us.” They said in not so many words.
So Q found himself searching the palace for his missing fiancé. It was a terrible way to spend one’s birthday, that was for sure.
He found his betrothed in an empty lounge, making his way through his brother’s liquor cabinet.
“Making yourself at home, your highness?” Q asked dryly, slightly annoyed that the prince would leave the party and that Q hadn’t thought of it himself.
Prince James barely spared Q a glance up from his glass of vodka, “I take it the party is as lavish as ever, Prince—”
“Please, just call me Q.” Q shook his head, walking over to the chaise where his fiancé was lounging, “I can’t stand the name my mother gave me.”
“And out of all the letters in the alphabet, you picked Q as your nickname?” The blond smirked, amused and no doubt slightly buzzed from alcohol. “Though I suppose since we’re getting married, you should call me James. I really don’t want you calling me “your highness” when we’re in bed.”
Q flushed bright red, “Why you arrogant piece of—”
“Tell me, Q,” James was staring into his glass, swirling the liquid inside, “You ever been outside this fancy palace?”
“No, of course not. That’s ridiculous.” Q lied, making his way to the record player in the corner of the room. It was only when the music was playing as loud as it could (he couldn’t be bothered to notice which song was playing) that he returned to where James was sitting, “Yes, I have.”
James raised an eyebrow, curious, “Big brothers keeping an eye on you?”
“My brothers are always listening.” Q said softly, sitting in the chair next to James.
The other nodded, taking another sip of his drink, “So is your country as much of a shithole as mine is?”
Q blushed, clearing his throat, “Well, I wouldn’t use those words exactly…”
“I’m no socialite or member of the propaganda squad, you can tell me what you really think.”
“It’s hell out there.” Q shook his head, looking at his hands, “We have all these advances in science…but the people are starving.”
“Yeah, I noticed a lot of blue at this party.” James shrugged, “Not exactly what I’m used to. It’s all about green: the best fighters, the strongest and the bravest. Of course, all that strength makes for good labor. So we’ve got all these amazing farms and factories and our army is unstoppable…”
“But…” Q gave James a knowing look.
“There’s a plague wiping the people out.” James continued, “I’ve read in the past that this disease was curable, but…we don’t exactly have the doctors for it.”
“So your people are sick and need doctors and my people are starving and need food.” Q smirked, taking James’s drink from him, taking a long drink, “And here I thought this marriage was just to combat the unrest in the West.”
James rolled his eyes, “It is.” He muttered, “I’ve heard that there are some areas that are rejecting the Trait system.”
Q blinked, “Wow…like in nations past.” He shook his head, taking another drink, “I must admit, I don’t know how it would work…”
“People find their own traits instead of being told what they are.” James replied with a scoff, “Imagine that, people being free to choose how they want to spend their lives.”
“How absolutely outrageous.” Q answered, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “How on Earth will people know how to live their lives without us telling them how to do it?”
There was a moment neither of them said anything. Then James began to laugh, “Oh, this will be a fun marriage, I can tell.” He quickly got himself a new glass, filling it with more liquor, “A toast,” he said to Q, raising his glass, “We may be ruling in hell, but that doesn’t mean we have to like it.”
Q smiled, toasting his glass to James’s, “I can drink to that.”