The Blight family matriarch hadn't wanted a third child.
In all honesty she hadn't been particularly fond of the idea of having children period. After all, children were messy, loud, and quite frankly Odalia Blight found the prospect of having to give birth down right grotesque but 'needs must ' as they say. As the head of the House of Blight it was her duty to ensure her family's future. Odalia needed to have children but no more than two; the heir and the spare. It had been a stroke of excellent luck when she'd gotten both on her first try.
Giving birth to multiples was common in the Blight family but the birth of twins was still considered an auspicious event, doubly so if it was a boy and a girl. According to the stories passed down from one generation of Blights to the next, the family had been founded by one such set of twins. And so from the moment they were born, Emira, her beautiful princess and Edric, her blessed prince, became her pride and joy.
They took more after her then they did her husband, a fact that she took great pleasure in. She cared for the man she married certainly, but it had taken Alador until manhood to grow into his features. She didn't think she could've stomached having an ugly baby. The twins only flaw was the unfortunate beauty mark that marred their otherwise unblemished skin. It was a small thing though, something she was more than willing to overlook. Nothing a bit of illusion magic couldn't fix after all.
Odalia Blight loved beautiful things. Was that so wrong?
Her children were beautiful and healthy and that was all that mattered. They would be fine members of society one day, the very pinnacle of what a witch should be thanks to her guidance. She would teach them just as her father had taught her. She'd fill them with pride for their family as witchlings, rocking them to sleep with the tales of Maelor and Meinir—the twins that started it all. And as they grew she would continue to tell them the stories of others that came before them so they knew what they could accomplish. So that they knew what she expected them to accomplish. Blights don't come in second. Blights have never come in second.
She wanted her children to succeed. Isn't that what all mothers want?
She had it all planned out. Amity was nowhere in that plan.
No mother should ever call her child a disappointment but to call Amity otherwise would be a lie. From the moment Odalia laid eyes on her she felt nothing but a deep and profound disappointment because it was plain to see that her youngest was not a proper Blight.
'Maelor and Meinir. Meinir and Maelor.
With their crowns of mistletoe they went off to war…'
The hair was her first clue; a blemish of bronze in a sea of greens. Lots of the old families on the Isle had physical traits that set them apart. From generation to generation, from the color of the mistletoe to that of a precious jade stone, one could always tell a Blight by the green in their hair. That was how it had always been.
Until it wasn't.
Odalia had been positively dismayed when she'd laid eyes on her youngest's hair. It was so terribly bright when she was first born it was almost unsightly against her gorgeous green sea. She thanked the Titan everyday that the color had mellowed as Amity got older, resting on a shade akin to bronze. Alador's hair was dark. Brown though it was, it was nowhere near the odd sort of reddish brown the girl had ended up with. But mother's make do.
The elder Blight kept no pictures of Amity as a baby for the world to scrutinize. And once the ridiculous red hue had gone down some and she'd reached a suitable age Odalia was quick to encourage that she dye it: "How about a nice mint green sweetheart? It's such a pretty color and you'd be making mommy so happy. You'll look just like your brother and sister, won't that be nice!"
Everyone likes beautiful things. No one likes ugly things that don't belong
The witch supposed she should've considered herself lucky. The girl could've just as easily ended up a full blown redhead, with a wild mop of hair and the blue eyes to go with it. But hair wasn't the only thing wrong with Amity, it ran deeper than that.
Whenever Odalia found Amity to be too soft or too stubborn for her liking (which wasn't uncommon) or just plain lacking (which was often), she had to remind herself that it wasn't all the girl's fault. It was a matter of blood, poor thing couldn't help it.
Love affair is not the term she'd use to describe what had taken place. There was no love involved. Power and beauty were two things the Blight witch found terribly attractive. Lilith Clawthorne just so happened to have both in spades. Furthermore, an affair can not possibly be considered an affair if your husband knows about it.
A lesser person might've let things be—too weak to deal with the problem. But Odalia Blight was no such person. She knew that the best diamonds had to be formed under the greatest pressure.
"Blights don't slouch!"
"Really Amity, you're six years old now, much too old to be afraid of the dark."
"Speak up, Blights don't mumble."
"Blights don't talk back!"
"Stop crying, Blights don't cry. Now hurry back to your party before you embarrass yourself."
"You're still using that training wand? You know your brother and sister never needed those when they were your age."
Children don't know what's best for them. It was up to the parent to show them the way. No matter how much they complained, no matter how they struggled, it was the parent's job to hold the line.
Not all men are created equal. Everyone is different, with their own strengths and shortcomings. To that end not all children are created equal, different children require different things. Just because Emira and Edric didn't require this much attention didn't mean Cordelia would shy away from doing so for her youngest.
Good mothers give their children what they need. To do otherwise would be neglectful.
Sometimes Amity needed more than just words to teach her how to behave, Odalia responded accordingly. She wasn't cruel; she was only trying to teach her daughter a lesson after all. It was a correction—a teaching tool used only when necessary and never with a closed fist.
"Oh honey, please don't be upset. I'm only tough on you because I know you can do better, because I love you. You know that don't you?..."
Parenthood wasn't meant to be easy but things could've been a lot simpler.
In another life Odalia might've been able to come to some sort of arrangement with the eldest Clawthorne, one where they could have taken part in their daughter's upbringing together. In another life Lilith might've been allowed to remember exactly what Amity was to her. But some things just aren't meant to be and it wasn't her place to question the emperor's wishes...
Odalia Blight hadn't wanted a third child but she had one. Regardless of whether she'd planned for it or not, she was Amity's mother and she intended to shoulder that responsibility. Amity wasn't a proper Blight, she wasn't like her prince and princess. But mothers are teachers, they don't give up on their children.
Like a sculptor giving life to a beautiful work of art she would chip away at her daughter's imperfections until what was left was an impeccable masterpiece. No matter how much work it took she would bring out the best in her child because that's what mothers do.
Mother knows best...Doesn't she?