Chapter Text
The day Amity met the girl who would turn out to be the love of her life, she was woken by the sound of her mother shouting.
This wasn’t the unusual part, of course. Over the course of the then-fifteen years of her life, she’d become accustomed to her mother’s constant nagging, snappish remarks, or screaming insults—mostly directed at her father, though she and her siblings occasionally received the same treatment.
The unusual part was that, amidst the din, she could distinctly hear her father’s voice. Which meant that he was arguing back.
Amity sat bolt upright in bed, almost immediately before her elder sister Emira threw open the door to her bedroom.
“What’s happening?” she asked, twisting to face her. “What’s wrong?”
“You need to come downstairs,” Emira said, eyes shining with glee. “Now.”
Amity scrambled to her feet, grabbing her dressing gown and throwing it on. “Has Dad lost his mind?”
Emira grabbed her wrist and pulled her downstairs. “Better. He’s gained a backbone.”
The two sisters ran outside and stopped next to their brother Edric, who was staring at the ensuing scene in openmouthed awe—and no wonder.
Alador Blight was throwing his wife’s things in her direction, red-faced and angry for the first time since Amity could remember. Sadly, Odalia didn’t even have the decency to be surprised, but still.
“It was just a trinket, Alador, grow up!” Odalia spat, gathering up a dress that had fallen onto the ground. “You’re such a child, always getting worked up over little things—”
“It wasn’t a trinket, it was an invention, you shrew of a woman!” Alador yelled. “It was meant to be a handheld clock! I spent almost a year working on it, and you smashed it like it was nothing! You treated it just like you treat our marriage! Our children, even!”
Odalia let out a groan. “Honestly, Alador, would it kill you to stop being so dramatic? You’ve never had a problem before—”
“OOOOOOOH YES, I HAVE!” he roared, pointing a finger in her face. “Eighteen fucking years I’ve spent putting up with you, Odalia! I’ve been shouldering your cruelty, your petty insecurities, and your ill-gained superiority so those three—” he swept a hand over to the Blight siblings— “could have something resembling a normal life, and for what? You stopped caring about them the moment you gave birth to them, and you’ve done nothing but treat me and our entire life here like the dirt you walk on! Well, it stops here, and it stops now!”
She froze in the middle of grabbing another piece of clothing from the ground. “What do you mean?”
“I think you know full well what I mean,” Alador hissed. “You want that life of luxury you’re always prattling on about? You want rid of the farm life? You really want out?”
He stormed back towards the house, snatched a suitcase from where it was leaning against the wall, and shoved it into her arms. “Then get out. And don’t bother coming back.”
Amity held her breath, waiting for the response. The cynic in her expected Odalia to laugh in her father’s face, and for him to shrink back into his shell again, and for life to return to its usual monotone torment… but a flicker of hope steadily rose the longer she observed the many cycles of shock Odalia’s expressions were going through.
“Fine,” she finally snarled, stuffing her things into the suitcase. “God knows it was a long time coming, anyway.”
Alador stepped back, exhaling slightly. “I’m glad we see eye to eye on something.”
It took a little while for Odalia to fit everything into her bag, and every second was excruciating. Once she got the last sock in, she turned on her heel and started down the road, then stopped.
“Oh, and Alador?” she called over her shoulder. “Good luck running this run-down place on your own, with three mouths to feed. I hope you’re pleased with yourself.”
That was the last time Amity ever saw her mother. And as she leaned back against the house, as she laughed hysterically along with her siblings, as their father hugged them all with relieved tears in his eyes, she realized that it was the first time in her life that she’d ever really felt happy.
After the euphoria had died down, the Blight family—now slightly smaller and much more joyful—met in the dining room of their small house.
“Wow.” Alador let out a choked laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I… I still can’t quite believe I did that.”
“We’re proud of you, Dad,” Edric said seriously, which was a rare and uncommon occurrence. “You did the right thing.”
“You could’ve done it sooner,” Emira muttered under her breath, almost immediately getting elbowed by her twin. “Ow! Hey! I’m sorry!”
Alador furrowed his brow slightly. “She was right about one thing, though. Now that she’s gone, we’ll need more help around here, won’t we?”
Amity felt a rise of panic. She’d never really interacted with anyone outside of her family, and she didn’t intend to start now.
“Um—it’s not like Mum ever did anything to help in the first place, right?” she babbled, trying and failing to hide her nervousness. “She always left the work to us, we can probably—”
“And look where it got us,” Emira reminded her. “Farm’s run-down, we can barely afford to eat, and we’re all absolutely worked to the bone. We’ve needed a farmhand for years.”
“But—” she started to protest.
Edric snapped his fingers. “What about the Nocedas, down the road? Manny and Camilla? Don’t they have a daughter looking for work?”
Alador’s eyes lit up. “Fantastic idea! Oh, lord, I need to invite them over for dinner, don’t I, tell them the good news—”
“And she’s around Mittens’s age!” Emira said, throwing an arm around her little sister. “Maybe the two of them will hit it off!”
In another life, maybe Amity would’ve won the argument. But that wasn’t what fate had in store for her.
Instead, the Nocedas came over for dinner that night, and they were all too happy to hear of Odalia’s departure—and the news that Alador would be hiring their daughter as a farmhand. Even though they’d been neighbors for years, Amity had never met the girl before, and she came as something of a surprise.
Luz Noceda was on the smaller side, with dark curls cut short and a smile that was either alarmingly cheery or infuriatingly cocky. She wore only boy’s clothes, not out of practicality or inability to afford dresses, but because she disliked the feel of skirts, and her mind seemed to wander like a kite caught in the wind. Amity was sure that she’d get fired after one day of work.
The very next day, she was proven swiftly wrong.
It turned out that Luz, despite her lack of height and apparent lack of muscles, was quite strong, and that was just the beginning of her skills. Yes, when she talked to others, she jumped from topic to topic with almost no reason or rhyme, but when she was set out to a task, it was nearly impossible to make her stop.
Alador asked her to chop wood for a fire—only for that night—and by the time Edric gently took the axe from her hands, Luz had chopped enough wood to last them through the winter. Edric asked her if she could polish the horse’s saddle, and by the time Emira called her in for dinner, you could use it as a mirror. Emira asked her if she could help her with the laundry, and by the time Amity finally gave up and checked on them, Luz had not only folded it, but she’d created an entirely new organization system, while being deep in conversation with Emira about some village gossip she’d overheard on a trip to the market.
So, Amity resolved to find Luz’s limits.
“Farm girl,” she said as she walked up to her one Monday morning, “I need you to feed the chickens and check them for bugs. After you’re done, I need you to check for eggs, and if there are any, put them in baskets and organize them by size.”
She waited with bated breath for a response.
Luz gave her one of her cheery smiles and saluted. “You’re the boss.”
So began the cycle.
Amity would try her level best to find something that Luz wouldn’t do, and once she’d figured something out, she’d immediately tell her to do it. Instead of refusing, or making a face, or at the very least forcing an enthused expression, Luz would give her a bright, happy, genuine smile, say “you’re the boss,” and do it to the best of her ability—which was often better than what it was meant to be.
“Farm girl, I cut my finger today. I need you to get the blood out of my dress.”
“You’re the boss.”
The blood was completely gone when Luz handed it back to her, prattling on about a treatment that her father had taught her when she was young.
“Farm girl, our neighbors are complaining about the stink in the barn. I need you to shovel the manure.”
“You’re the boss.”
The manure was shoveled and spread to help the crops, and the one hiccup was that Luz had to use the house’s only bath.
“Farm girl, we’re going to have a special dinner for the holidays. I need you to kill one of the chickens—Edric cries every time he does it.”
“You’re the boss.”
Not only did Luz do it, but she specifically picked out a chicken that was older than the rest, gently talked to it and calmed it down, made sure it was asleep, and did it quickly and carefully. Amity was truly shocked by that—she’d assumed that Luz’s love of animals would prevent her from doing anything like that.
The ensuing months turned to a year. A year of changes.
It became easier for Amity to wake up in the morning, her brain beginning to comprehend that she wouldn’t awaken to the sharp crack of her mother’s voice, but instead the sound of her siblings teasing each other and her father humming under his breath as he worked on his new project. With Luz’s help, their farm began to flourish again, and people started coming to their stall in the village market. The twins were no longer at each other’s throats, but genuinely friends, and their prankster natures were now lighthearted rather than mean-spirited. Alador was no longer too thin for his age and constantly tired, but happy, welcoming, and gaining a healthy amount of weight.
In fact, now that they had help around the farm, Alador had more time to work on his pet projects, and they were getting more and more efficient. He’d even called in an old friend of his—a swordmaker from the city by the name of Darius—to visit every now and then to help out. Often, those visits would simply become times when Darius would sit with the family at the table, and share anecdotes from his and Alador’s shared childhood, and give the siblings advise on clothing. Needless to say, everyone looked forward to them.
And Amity felt… lighter, almost.
She still had her walls up, of course. The effects of living under the same roof as Odalia Blight would likely linger all throughout her life, even if they’d lessen as time passed. But there was no more pressure to be perfect, no more commenting on every little flaw.
Honestly, she didn’t quite know what to do with herself. Maybe that was why she spent her energy trying to find Luz’s breaking point.
But try as she might, she never could. All she ever got was a smile, a “you’re the boss,” and a job well done. And the more she tried, the guiltier she felt.
Eventually, Amity finally snapped.
“Farm girl?”
Luz looked up from the hay she’d been shoveling, brushing some sweat off of her brow. “Yeah?”
“I… um…” Amity held out two empty pails. “I need you to. Um. Fill these. With water.”
Say something, she internally begged. Call me on my bullshit, tell me that it’s ridiculous, at least say that you have to finish what you’re doing—just SAY SOMETHING, say something OTHER than—
“You’re the boss!” Luz chirped, taking the pails from her.
And that was the breaking point.
“For GOD’S sake, stop SAYING that!” Amity burst, snatching them back. “Why do you always say that? Why do you never get angry at me? I have been fucking horrible to you, and all you ever do is smile at me and say those stupid words! Why do you never fight back, or complain to Dad, or do something other than what I tell you to do?”
There was silence for a scant few minutes as the two girls stared at each other.
After what seemed like eternity, Luz lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Not worth it.”
Amity stared at her. “What.”
“See, Ams—I’m calling you Ams, by the way, you can take it or leave it,” Luz said, holding up a finger as Amity attempted to cut in. “See, I am the one who’s doing my job, and doing it well. You, on the other hand, are the one whose awful mother finally left. You are the one dealing with a lot of trauma. And you are the one who needs to process it in her own way. Until you figure out something better to do—”
She took the pails back and shouldered them. “I’m here, and I’ll be taking anything you throw at me, whether you like it or not. ‘Cause I’ve been around you long enough to know what you’re like, and you, my sour lemon drop—” she tapped Amity on the nose— “have a hidden sweet center. I’m just waiting until you get over yourself and show it to me.”
With that, Luz walked away, leaving Amity bright red, flustered, and sputtering for words.
“You—you can’t just—” She regained her composure. “You can’t just do that!”
“Yes, I can!” Luz called.
For the next few days, Amity did nothing but agonize over that moment. The first real conversation she and Luz had—the only time the farm girl had said anything other than that infuriating refrain of “you’re the boss,” in fact—and Luz had just… said that.
She’d deconstructed Amity’s entire reasoning behind what she did, even though Amity herself hadn’t realized it until then. Without so much as batting an eye.
Who even was this girl?
Now that she thought about it… how much did she even know about Luz?
And what had she missed?
The next time Amity got up the nerve to see Luz again, she found her sitting under an old oak tree near the house, reading a well-worn book and humming under her breath. Already, she felt guilty about disturbing her, but she knew better than to back out now.
Amity cleared her throat. “Hello.”
Luz looked up. “Oh, hey, Ams. How’s your day going?”
“Fine. Just fine.” She toyed with the apron strung around her waist. “I… I suppose an apology might be in order.”
“For what?”
Christ, this girl.
“For… how I’ve been treating you,” Amity mumbled, pointedly looking anywhere but her. “Even if you’re taking it… surprisingly well, you don’t deserve that. I’m just…”
Luz set her book down. “Just what?”
“I… I don’t know.” Amity sat down next to Luz with a sigh. “Mum never really let me make friends. I don’t know how to interact with people my age, and now that she’s gone…”
She kicked at the dirt. “I suppose I’ve become territorial. I love my siblings, and I love my father. And now that we’re finally happy, I don’t… I don’t want anything to interfere with that.”
Amity held her breath, waiting for a response.
Luz gave her a little nudge. “I get it. It’s hard, having someone new shake up your life.” She raised an eyebrow. “But, uh, you don’t seem to have similar problems with Darius.”
“Wh—that’s different!” Amity protested. “He’s my dad’s friend! They’re already comfortable with each other! I—”
“Relax, Ams, I’m just messing with you.”
Right.
Amity looked over at the book in Luz’s hands. “Um… what are you reading?”
“Oh!” Luz lit up almost immediately. “It’s called The Good Witch Azura! It’s an incredible story about a young girl who grows up to be a powerful witch, and it has a beautiful take on fairy tales and happily ever afters and the dichotomy between good and evil, it’s my favorite—”
“Do you think—” Amity ducked her head, feeling a bit embarrassed. “Do you think you could read it to me?”
There was a brief moment in which she started regretting even starting the conversation.
Luz gave her a smile, squeezing her hand. “You’re the boss.”
Thus began a new cycle.
Luz read the book to Amity from beginning to end, complete with voices for each character, sound effects, and dramatic pauses. One book turned into five, and before long, Luz was recommending her entire library to Amity—and Amity was recommending hers. Soon, they were reading to each other every day, and Emira even joked about their little “book club.”
It took many months before they’d read all the books they’d owned, and meetups under the tree became trips to the bookstore in town. Those, in turn, became simple trips into town for any kind of purpose, from getting books to buying clothes to having food fights in the marketplace—causing both of them to promptly be banned, but neither considered it a loss. One one particular trip, Luz bought Amity a gift—a little potion that allowed someone to change the color of their hair to anything they wanted, and the affect was permanent unless the person decided it was time to fade. Amity only did a few purple streaks, but she treasured it greatly.
As another year passed, Luz and Amity became ever closer, sharing inside jokes and advice and, late at night when neither could sleep, things that kept them up at night. Both of their families marveled over how close they’d gotten, but neither truly considered it a surprise. They were, after all, practically destined to be friends.
Then, one day, everything truly changed.
It was a normal day, and a normal situation. The two girls had both stayed up late, and as they were getting ready for bed, Amity told Luz that she was getting them both glasses of water.
Luz said “you’re the boss,” just as usual.
But the way she looked at Amity then, with the firelight casting shadows across her face and her deep brown eyes glimmering and her smile softer than she’d ever seen…
It made her discover something she’d known, deep down, for years.
It was never “you’re the boss.”
It was always, “I love you.”
And in that moment, Amity realized that she loved Luz back.
Their first kiss didn’t happen for another few weeks, of course. In real life, there are no dramatic confessions of love the moment you realize your feelings, especially when you’re both only just seventeen. You sit on your feelings for a little while, hemming and hawing over whether to confess—and even if you know they feel the same, you worry if being together would just ruin everything.
But that’s the thing, about loving your best friend. If you two are right for each other, and you’re willing to make it work… it can go a long way.
Luz and Amity’s first kiss was underneath the old oak tree. It followed an awkward jumble of shared emotions, stuttering confessions, and both of them nearly chickening out at one point or another, but it happened. It wasn’t perfect, but that made it all the more sweet.
Both of them thought it would last forever.
In the end, all they received were eight months.
One morning, Alador announced what the Blight children had all suspected—that he and Darius were in love, and were to be wed. But since Darius already had a steady practice in the city, that meant that they would sell the farm and move there.
By that point, both Amity and Luz were eighteen. But Luz came from a family of farmers, and didn’t have the money to follow her. So she came up with something else.
“I got a job on a cargo ship,” Luz told her the morning before they all left. “Run by some noble. Not ideal, but it pays pretty well.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Amity whispered. “You can live with us. We can afford—”
Luz let out a sad laugh, pressing her forehead to her girlfriend’s. “Ams, you guys could barely afford to keep me around. I don’t wanna be a burden on you.”
“No. No, look at me.” Amity cupped Luz’s face in her hands. “You will never be a burden, Luz. Not ever. Not to me.”
“It’ll be okay. I’ll come back.”
“You don’t know that.”
Luz kissed her gently, then broke away with a smile. “Hey, what you and I have? It’s true love. You think that happens every day?”
Amity shook her head, blinking back tears.
“I will be back.” Luz hugged her tight. “I promise.”
She never came back.
When they were out at sea, the cargo ship was attacked by the Dread Pirate Robles.
Robles had been marauding for twenty years—a famed woman pirate who took special interest in stealing from the wealthy, the privileged, and the corrupt. And as Luz’s ship had been noble-run, it was fitting that she’d attacked.
But that was the thing about the Dread Pirate Robles.
She never left survivors.
Amity locked herself in her room when she heard the news. For a week, she didn’t come out, even to eat. Edric and Emira told Alador, in hushed tones, that they both heard her crying in the night.
When she finally came out, her expression was neutral. She’d let her hair go entirely purple. Her eyes were red.
“Are you all right?” Alador quietly asked her, pressing a cup of tea into her hands.
“Fine.” Amity took a sip. “But I’ll never love again.”
She never did.