No One Mourns The Wicked

Chapter 3

"No one controls your destiny. Even at the very worst - there is always choice."

― Gregory Maguire, Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West

Regina and Robin were staring at the letter. They could not tell if they should just throw it away, but they knew they needed to open it. They were holding hands, knuckles white. They had spent months in a legal battle. It quickly became apparent Zelena had not been a fit parent. So, it had been over in months. This letter was the end. The verdict.

The girl had been living in a flat in LA for a year with two other teenagers. She had recently and moved to New York thinking that she could make it on Broadway. Before that, she had lived in a travelling circus in Europe. She needed a stable life. And a real job. They could give it to her, even if it were just until she turned 18. And she was taking a gap year because of some contracts she was in. They had been able to get her out of all but one. But it was mostly over. It was to do press for a movie, the "secret project" no one knew anything about that they had heard about on the talk show. She would have to go to press meetings whenever they finally decided to announce the movie and give a release date. But there was nothing saying that would be happening anytime soon.

They read the letter in tandem. In two months, Robin's daughter, Morrighan Westen, would come to live with them for the next eight months until her 18th birthday. After that, there was not much they could do. But they could encourage her to get a real job. They had two months to get everything ready. The two months' time had something to do with the movie contract. And she was using that time to work on some small show no one knew about.

It was over so fast. Almost too fast. She was coming here. They had expected more of a fight, if they were being honest. But they were glad it was over.

They had, admittedly, interfered with her getting Broadway role, but a flying monkey in Oz was not much of a career. It was a named part though, Christey or something like that. And it probably had more to do with her circus background than anything else.

"Two months," Robin said to her.

She smiled: "Two months."

~Two months later~

Morrighan was arriving today. They had gotten a room ready for her. It was painted a lilac purple and was empty save for cedar wood floating bookshelves, a twin bed, and sone desks and nightstands. There was also a pale teal oblong rug in the middle of the room.

The Hoods had spoken twice over the internet with Morrighan as they had not been allowed to contact her during the custody battle.

Regina's phone pinged. "She's on her way," she told Robin.

In a few hours, a car pulled into the driveway. Regina and Robin rushed outside but stopped at the door. The people got out. Morrighan from the passenger seat. The top of her head was bright with red hair that slowly became a dark brown to the tips. The two others went to the back and pulled her suitcases out of the trunk.

"I'm gonna miss you guys," she said, bear-hugging them. She lingered with the man, who lifted her from her feet. "Knock 'em dead, Yero my hero." She muttered. No seemed to have noticed the Hoods standing in the door.

"Morgan, we're going to miss you too." The girl took Morrighan's face in her hands. "I'm going to call you every morning. And before every show. Eight times a week. And you are going to sing the good-luck song or I'm gonna fall thirty feet out of the bubble and die and it will all be your fault." They giggled. "I love you," the girl said, hugging her again. "And I'm postponing my wedding for you, so you have to sing me the good-luck song."