Through the Archway

Chapter Twenty-Five -- Part One

Rebekah's eyes flew open wide, still seeing the fractured visions from her nightmare playing before her, as real as living it. David, running through the woods, the dark of night enfolding him like fog; him tripping over a root and crying out in pain; a light shining down over him; David looking up, bathed in white.

Rebekah's breath came in short, desperate gasps, as though she was struggling for air. Her heart was pounding wildly in her chest, only adding to her immense feeling of anxiety — and the trembling, her entire body shaking like she'd just been pulled from ice–cold water, wouldn't stop. Rebekah took a steadying breath, lifted herself up into a sitting position, kicked her sheets off with her feet, and wrapped her arms around her knees, waiting for it to stop.

Rebekah didn't know what to do. Everything had gone so wrong over the course of a few days. King Henry was dead, Taylor was gone, David wasn't talking to her. And she — she was going to be forced to accept Thomas's proposal any time now. Rebekah always tried to be there for the people she cared about, for the people she loved. But this time she didn't know how.

Rebekah had tried talking to him and telling him it was going to be okay. It was like talking to an empty shell, or a brick wall, or worse, her father. David was simply gone, and she doubted whether he would be the same again. He had lost his father, his guide, his sense of living. Rebekah didn't know how to relate.

She had been trying not to think of Will, because the more she imagined his voice, the more she could actually hear it. She needed to let him go for his sake and hers, but now she just couldn't help it, she wanted him back. . . she wanted him there to help her through this.

She remembered how he would act so detached and serious around everyone else, but with her, he was who he was supposed to be. He was so full of joy when he was younger, his happiness had slowly faded as he grew older; around everyone but her.

Soft morning light crept into the room through the half–opened curtains. It would be morning soon. The start of a new day, one where she'd once again have to face the reality of everything that had happened.

After it finally sunk in for everyone that the king was truly dead, timed seemed to speed up. The days passed by quickly and everyone was grieving. The whole world seemed to have grown silent at the news of King Henry's death, much worse than that when Will died.

It took a very long time for her to realize that Glendale wasn't left without a king, though the thought didn't bring her any comfort. Until David turned twenty–five, Thomas would be the sole king of Glendale. Somehow, Rebekah had not thought it was actually possible.

She hadn't seen him since they were in Sylvain together. She could still see the sunlight bursting through the tree–tops high above and David smiling like she'd never seen him smile before.

Today she and her parents were going to return home. Rebekah squeezed her eyes shut tight hoping that when she'd open them everything that had happened would all disappear, like it was all just some bad dream.

She pressed her forehead to her knees, letting her hair fall forward like a curtain. "Make it go away, please," Rebekah begged. Nothing happened.

Rebekah lifted her head and with the back of her hand, wiped away a tear she hadn't realized she let fall. She opened her eyes. The sun was shining now, a solid beam of gold, and footsteps echoed outside her door.

Slowly, she slid both feet off her bed and stood up, gathering her hair into a bun and walking over to her closet. Her colored gowns had all been replaced with ones of the deepest black. She pulled on the sleeve of a long pleated black dress. It slithered to the floor in a bundle of fabric. She reached and her fingers closed over a pair of black flats. It's time to go, she thought, sighing.