No One Mourns The Wicked

Chapter 24

N/A: I have been to NYC exactly once in my lifetime and you'd better believe I am using it to my advantage in this chapter. 

Regina and Robin leaned back on their plane seats. Morrighan had decided, in the end, to go. She had left before them, opting not to have them drive her and instead of calling a taxi. It had been the right choice because neither of them had flown before, and their indecisiveness in packing had made them late. Then, they had noticed that they did not have plane tickets and had to wait for a vacancy.

Morrighan had not asked them to come. She had said the managers at the theatre had arrangements for her and would text them all the details as she knew them.

Regina found herself checking her niece's social media constantly, but besides an initial handful of Instagram stories stating that she a: could not speak English today and that it was apparently not stopping anyone from b: making her the emergency Glinda cover, it had been silent. Gideon, more well-versed in electronics than she had suggested she monitor the tagged page on Morrighan's profiles is she was truly concerned.

"I'm still not sure she would want us to come now," Robin mumbled as the plane took off.

"This was your idea," Regina said. She had, to her own surprise, bid they stay back. But the more she thought about it, the more reasonable it had seemed to her. She knew New York would be so out of her control, that it would go against her beliefs, and she did not want to put herself there.

If it had been up to her, she would have told Morrighan a flat no about going back to the show. She felt like her niece had a lot of growing up to do, in realizing that the world was not fair, was not just.

Then, she realized she sounded like her mother. She sounded like the Mayer Mills who had almost driven Henry away, who had butted head a lot with Robin over how to best parent Roland. And Morrighan exited in a world outside of Storybrooke where people did not marry kings. She lived in a world where fairy tales were cautionary tales that got rewritten and securitized.

When Morrighan said she found Red Riding Hood stuck up and obnoxious over a phone call, she had been talking about the Sondheim/Lapine musical Into the Woods, not about Red or her grandmother. When she talked about Glinda and The Wicked Witch of the West, it was always in the context of the musical, the Maguire book, or the old movie everyone knew.

"I want to see her perform," Robin said. "We should have one earlier, met her before she came to stay with us."

Regina nodded. "I forget a world outside of Storybrooke exists. That people don't brush their teeth with magic every morning or enchant their ovens." She paused. "It's funny, even without magic, more might be possible out there than stuck in Storybrooke."

"We have--"

"I do," Regina interrupted. "I have a lot of apologizing and change to make. You shouldn't start taking the blame because I was being insufferable."

"I should have been more assertive too," he replied. "I am her father, and you are her aunt. If we were not married, I'd be the only one with the legal recourse to get guardianship."

"I'm so sorry," Regina said finally.

"It's okay. 'Gina," he replied. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "I still got to meet that amazing girl, and I know I have a daughter now."

New York was more of an underestimation than they had been led to believe.

"I forgot what this was like," Robin said as he stared mesmerized at the traffic.

The buildings were so tall it was blocking out the sunlight for the entire street. Looking down the bustling street, Regina could see the sun come coursing through the grid, lighting up the buildings. It was unlike anything she had ever seen before.

Her nose wrinkled up, shattering her first impression upon getting out of the cramped yellow car. The streets smelt. As they walked down the street where the taxi had let them off, Regina noted the piles of garbage lined up, creating a barrier between the pedestrians and the road. It served as a windbreak too, the smellier the area, the warmer it was.

Couldn't they just use waste bins?

Then she looked up again. Wastebins would not cut it. The entire town of Storybrooke could fit into one of these buildings with room left over.

It was grand like the castles had been. This was the modern-day equivalent of her citadel. The large, gorgeous buildings in contrast to the dirty streets, those with the means floating above in their cars and on motorbikes, confining those who could not the streets and the unknown horrors that awaited in the subway systems. Like how she would ride her carriage through the peasantry.

With relief, they made it to their hotel. Booked last minute, the room was not ideal, nor did it justify the price, but at least the hotel was well-reviewed and near the theatres.

Regina felt exhausted, laying down on the bed and scrolling through her phone with Robin beside her. It was only the middle of the afternoon. She had texts from Morrighan with the details of the hotel she was staying in, along with her transportation plan, which was walking, as she was practically on top of the theatre.

Sirens sounded and Regina went to close the window, then realized it was closed. There was no other way to block out the noise.

"Everything is huge here," Robin said.

"I know."

"I'm just thinking, the Enchanted Forest was probably as big as this realm, if not bigger, and yet," he trailed off staring at the ceiling, "this city feels larger than all of it. The universe does. How long would it take to ride to the main form here? We got here by plane in an hour. Imagine crossing the Atlantic on Hook's ship versus one of the boats the fishers have."

Regina nodded along. "Want to gout a take a look around?'

"No," he said. "I think a moment to rest."

"Me too."

Regina flicked her wrist to close the blinds. Nothing happened. She did it again, and again, nothing.

She swore. "Land without magic," she huffed as she walked over and closed them by herself.

Robin set an alarm, and before dozing off, they checked the tagged page on Morrighan's Instagram account again. There were mostly congratulatory posts, none from people Regina thought the girl knew. It was weird as she went through them, absolute strangers excited to see her perform or glad that she is getting the chance too. Then they stumbled upon some videos.

Someone, a stranger to them, smiled at the camera, then panned across a room where were scrips and water bottles were strewn across the floor, with people dancing. The caption read "Dancing through life crash course for @MorrighanWesten". As they scrolled down, there were a few more videos of Morrighan joking and smiling on a break, babbling in German, and rolling her eyes at herself as she made faces for the camera. They were sweet and silly, but it was clear despite the pressure she was enjoying it. Her smile was permanent and radiant. Just before they shut her phone off, she got a notification that the girl had made another story.

Regina was glad to see that it was an actual video. Morrighan had her hair up in unflattering circles close to her scalp and was wearing a gorgeous blue petaled dress with a million beads on it. She spun around to no music and caption that read "I'm too tall, so you might see Glinda's ankles and hear her speak in tongues tonight :P." A smaller bit of text in the other corner read: "who even hires me to do things I'm using google translate to caption this?"

"At least she's having fun," Robin said.

"Yeah," Regina said.

That dress did not look like anything she had imagined when she had first been told her niece did musical theatre. It looks like it costs thousands of dollars to make. And there was more than one costume throughout the entire show.

For some reason, she had been picturing something more like a school play, just without the cardboard set pieces.