#the celestial hot take: let Q quote Shakespeare

[celestialholz]

You know how Q mentioned Picarad to Janeway and Sisko. I headcanon he also does this to various others he meets from time to time. There are entire civilzations that have figured out that they can get their God of Chaos to stop tormenting them by indulging and ecouraging his rants about Picard until he forgets why is there in the first place.

*laughs for five straight minutes* Brilliant. Take this mad thing with my pleasure! ^_^

The myths of Zenda VII have long since spoken of the ultimate threat; the malevolent deity, murmured in the dead of night’s campfire tales, the unwilling witnesses of stars and firelight alone only emphasising the terror scattered through generations of their people.

“They’ll come in broad daylight,” the grandmother whispers to her rapt charges around the flaming pit, tone solemn, eyes as round and wide as the third moon. “Chaos incarnate, wiles absolute, the Ultimate One; elaborately clothed, no need for the cover of midnight; torment shall reign for cycles on end, and when they eventually recede… all of our souls will have been reaped, harvested to appease the whims of the grand sky gods. We shall be shells alone.”

It’s a tale as old as time, always recited with identical reverence, a fear befitting of the inevitable but nevertheless terrifying, children left to scatter, bawling, back to their huts, the grimace of the elders and the chief all the remains beside the fire to see them all off into uneasy dreams.

There have been counterarguments occasionally, heated mutterings among the people at village meetings; “They’ll have mercy, surely? We’re just farmers, living off the land - peaceful, loving!”

The only response is a grim silence, and it settles deep in the heart of their every chief through the centuries, the thought that perhaps, one day, they’ll have to be the one to bear the brunt of such horror.

… It’s curious then, the day they do show up; it’s exactly as the legend states, after all, exuberant robes and all, appearance immediately threatening by the diamond of pure brilliance that accompanies it. They’re in the village square, glancing round, humanoid features creased with bemusement at the screaming, fleeing community around them.

“Oh gods, Shazem, it’s them!” Comes the petrified hiss of the chief’s life-mate, an unassuming and terrified female.

“I… yes,” the chief replies, and though terror fills every inch of her soul, she stares unblinkingly outwards from her grand hut’s window, natural flippancy rising from the ashes. “I was expecting them to be a little more… you know.”

“What on Zenda are you saying?! They will raze our people to the ground! Did you not just see their appearance?!”

“Bit difficult to miss,” the chief answers thinly. “I… I’ve just been under the distinct impression that they’d be a bit more… intimidating, but legends do not lie, my darling. Stay here, won’t you?”

“It will make no difference, Shaz -”

“It may, for a while at least.” She kisses her soundly, swallows, and leaves, shadowed briefly by the walk past several neighbouring huts.

“Seriously, have I missed the memo?” The being calls dryly at the sprinting natives, the cries of horror that ring across the village, the doors being carelessly slammed as they dive for shelter. “Why are you all running? Admittedly can’t imagine you’ve all seen much in the way of teleportation, I could have been a touch more subtle, but -”

“You are the Ultimate One.” Her voice remains admirably level as it rings across the square, tremble barely visible in her legs. “My people fear you as the one that will destroy us all.”

The being spins, eyes alight with bewilderment.

“… Do they?” They ask in intrigue, before they sigh theatrically, turning a glare skywards. “And which of you thought this was a hilarious idea? Do speak up!”

Something distinctly uneasy shifts through her for a long moment as the being curls lips, seemingly having received their answer from a higher plane.

“… Lovely,” they snap. “I’ll deal with you later, kid.”

A cool look is directed suddenly at her, lips pursed. “So, what am I supposed to be doing exactly?”

The chief swallows subtly, wondering if she can lie to a being of ‘absolute wiles’.

“You are, uhm… you’re supposed to -”

“Oh for the love of -” Their tongue clicks in exasperation. “Telepathic, dear, do try not to lie won’t you?”

Her features fall just slightly, though a brow raises. “Why… why would you need to ask, then?”

“Is it too much to expect a little honesty?” They ask dryly, eyes rolling. “I’m going to be perfectly candid with you at least, sweet mortal - your legends are, to a degree at least, accurate. I am absolutely capable of tearing your precious little village to shreds, half the galactic locality with it in fact, and once upon a time I may very well have done, but -”

Two opulent love-seats appear beside the fireside in a diamond of light, duet of colourful cocktails placed beside a glass mug of something steaming, though the true curiosity is the being that’s also been summoned; clad in deep maroon and utterly bemused, he stares between entity and chief, decidedly irritated by the situation.

“ - I married this guy a few weeks ago, and he’s frustratingly ethical.” They say it with great affection despite the man’s clear annoyance. “Do take a seat, darling. I made tea!”

“Q,” begins the strange visitor furiously, “what in fresh hell -”

“Not in front of the Zendans, Jean-Luc.” They give a conspiratorial wink before glancing at Shazem expectantly. “Are you just going to stand there, my dear? I think you’ll find my campfire tales rather more charming.”

Shazem blinks stupidly as an irate voice washes through her peripheral awareness, muttering angrily foreign terms such as “Prime Directive” and “on the damn bridge!” and “supposed to be chairing a conference between the Talosians and Andorians!” as the other soothingly proclaims that they’ll fix time accordingly, and despite herself, she bursts out laughing, mad, breathless giggles erupting from her.

“They’re fine,” she announces loudly to her village, fear receding in her spirit. “Absolutely fine, my friends! Weird, very weird, but fine!”

“Less of that, thank you!” The being, apparently ‘Q’, responds coolly as the residents slowly peek from their huts, uncertain but trusting; some murmur brief laughs at the bickering couple, others merely stare. “You’re the weird ones, with your linear time and your limited lifespans! And you’ve never so much as heard of a starship -”

“Prime. Damn. Directive!” The one known as Jean-Luc hisses, outraged. “Please accept my apologies for my husband, good stars - apparently a two-month honeymoon wasn’t sufficient -”

“‘Pleasure and action make the hours seem short,’ my darling,” Q points out in fond exasperation, casting a glance at the villagers with a grin. “Anyone for a real legend? Wait until you hear how we met…”