Chapter Text
“A delegation of Faerie came to see me last night. They’re talking about abandoning this plane forever. Honestly, Titania is just pestering me again, I’m tired of her insistence.”
“Dream, listen to the people. Drink your drink.”
Death insisted that he came. That was her price, after their disastrous last bet, and Dream would weather it. She’s been going on and on, telling Dream he shouldn’t have lost to her, that if only he paid attention to the humans in any other capacity than as dreamers, he would have known better. How can she know humanity better than him, she’d asked, when humans spend one third of their lives in his realm, and only a few moments in her company?
So Dream listens. None of it seems worth it. Except maybe the author, Chaucer. He may be worth the attention of the Prince of Stories. He’s about to join the conversation, when he’s interrupted by a loud braggart.
“I’ve seen Death”, The man claims. And he goes on to list all the times he allegedly saw Death, plague, war. He is ridiculous. It means nothing. He can’t even see Death when she’s right here, in front of him, in a tavern.
“Death is…stupid.”
Dream turns to his sister. Surely she won’t let herself be disrespected this way. But she’s smiling. The man just keeps rambling about how he’s certainly going to die.
“Why would any sensible creature crave an eternity of this?”
The answer is obvious, this cretin is most certainly not sensible. But Dream wants to make him eat his words.
“You could find out?”
“How?”
“I could grant him his wish.”
Could she now? She must be a little offended, then.
“Do that, and he will be begging for death within a century, I assure you.”
Humans wishing they were immortals always regret it. Death is a gift, she says it herself, and silly mortals who can’t appreciate it certainly don’t deserve it.
“This will prove very interesting.”
Indeed. Dream can’t wait to see how this one will break.
“Are you going to tell him or should I?”
Dream has an idea, to make this even more interesting. As he said earlier, Titania is proving difficult. He thought nothing of it, a few centuries back, when they started their tryst. She obviously thought she could vye for the position of Queen of the Dreaming. What a fool. But a presumptuous, annoying fool. He should take her down a peg. And this human will do very nicely for this purpose.
“I shall.”
Dream approaches the table, where the git is still talking. This is the major downside of this plan: Dream will have to put up with his company. The upside is of course that he’ll inflict the twat upon Faerie’s Court. Let them abandon this plane for good within the decade of meeting him.
“Did I hear you say you have no intention of ever dying?”
The man looks up to him. He’s obviously inebriated, enough that he takes a few seconds to come up with an answer.
“Yeah, yeah, that’s right.”
This display of eloquence clearly needed several seconds of preparation, no doubt.
“Then you must tell me what it’s like. I suggest a bargain, Robert Gadling.” Dream can see the moment Gadling understands there’s more at play than careless words tossed in a tavern. Good. Let him fear.
“You will come with me for one night, as my guest, to the Court of Faerie. And in exchange, we will meet again, in this tavern of the White Horse, in one hundred years.”
The man’s friends laugh loudly at the idea. Dream can see him actually considering it. His friends haven’t noticed anything amiss, but Gadling has. He suspects the deal is real.
“Don’t mind them. The Court of Faerie you say? One night, for a hundred years of life? That sounds like a bargain. I’m your man.”
Robert Gadling smiles at him like the cat who ate the canary. Like he got the good end of the deal. Well, he’ll eat his words soon enough.