After it happened she'd hidden in the keep until she physically couldn't stay anymore because she feared for her life. The instant that she could she went and hid back in the Queen's residence in Bhak, though she knew she wouldn't be allowed to stay there very long it was better than going home, at least she thought that until the annoyed butler got one look at her face. At which point she went back to the coach and told them to take her to her parent's home. She wasn't really welcome there either, but she didn't care, she just curled up in her room and cried for three days, refusing to eat or talk to see anyone.

She'd stop her crying on the second day to try damage control. She could be smart when it was needed, though it was never really needed. She was a very pretty girl and she'd never needed to be really smart. But that was the problem, wasn't it? She wasn't pretty anymore? Not because of that illusion. Two years, two years of her life gone to that spell, two years stolen, no way to get them back and no way to make anyone suffer for her loss.

During her second day of isolation she and forced herself to stop crying and stood in front of the mirror to face her reflection. It was hard to face her reflection because it wasn't even like she was unrecognizable. It was still her. It was still her eyes, though the shape of her lids had changed and her previously wonderfully long eyelashes seemed short and nubby. It was still her dark curls, though their shine was gone and what should have seemed springy seemed lack luster instead. It was still her skin, but the soft look was gone. Her teeth weren't as straight or pleasantly white. Her lips had become thin. Her eye brows were bushy; her forehead too big, her nice triangular face was suddenly too angular. Her delicate features were too harsh, her elegant nose was too beaky. But it was still her. She could still see what she was under all the change, but maybe that was what made the hurt so much worse.

She quietly found her brush, brushing out her hair, seeing what it did. No matter how she brushed or styled it, it still seemed lack luster, though she felt the soft, full nature of her actual locks. She tried to apply makeup but it simply did not stick to the charm at all. That was what kept her crying for the entire rest of the second day and all of the third. She stopped once to wash off her make up with the same meticulous care she'd always taken, though she couldn't see it in the mirror at all. Two years of her life were gone forever already, but at the end of those years she would not let herself be less than stunning. That was one of the thoughts that crossed her mind in one of her more lucid moments.

On the fourth day her mother came. Her father had tried, but she'd hid under her blankets and screamed until he left. Her mother had a stronger hand than her father did. "Kermilla, get out of those blankets."

"No," Kermilla said stubbornly, curling up tighter. They'd see one day, they'd all see, but she couldn't let it be that day. She could put it off for one more day.

"Kermilla, you are twenty one years old, soon to be twenty two, and you are an adult. You can't be acting like a child just because you lost your court," she said.

Kermilla let out a loud sob. No, no, no, she was not going outside of her blankets or that room. Not until everything was far over. If she had to live in her bedroom for two years she would.

"Kermilla," her mother said, grabbing onto the blankets, wrenching at them, though her daughter held onto them tighter and refused to let go, surprising the older witch with her strength. "You received a letter from Lady Sabrina, and you cannot just ignore it and stay up here all day!" she snapped, getting fursted.

"Nooo," Kermilla moaned, gripping tighter onto the bed sheet until the fabric was literally ripped from her hands. She quickly covered her face and buried her head in the mattress.

"What's the matter with you? You come back here, don't speak to any of us, lock yourself in here, won't even see your father!" Her mother demanded, grabbing her daughter by the wrists and pulling her up, wrenching the young woman's hands away from her face. "Kerm-" She'd started on another fit of anger until she saw what looked back at her and then she became caught up in a breathless scream.

Kermilla burst into tears again and dove under her pillow, burying her head under it to hide her face.

"Kermilla, what happened to you? Who would do such a thing? We have to get it fixed, we have to right now, and have that bitch brought before a tribunal!" she declared.

"It can't be fixed," Kermilla said.

"What do you mean it can't be fixed, of course it can be fixed, we just go find a black widow," the woman started.

"No!" Kermilla snapped, glaring at her mother from a gap underneath her pillow. "It can't be fixed!" she snapped.

"So you're going to be like this forever?" the woman demanded.

"Two years," Kermilla said softly. Two lost years.

"Two years," her mother repeated. "Oh Kermilla, we have to talk to the Queens, we have to, for someone to do something like this to you-"

"No, we're not going to talk to anyone. There's no one who can fix it! It'll be over in two years. I don't want to do anything! I want you to leave me alone!" she shouted.

"You can't think I'm just going to let this go? Why are you accepting this?"

"Because you can't change anything, none of you can change anything, so just leave me alone!" she snapped.

"Well fine!" her mother snapped, getting angry again. She called in an open letter and threw it down on her daughter's bed. "But you can't mope around here forever! Lady Sabrina demands a response by tomorrow!" she said and stormed out.

Kermilla let out a loud scream, throwing her pillow at the wall with as much force as she could before she hopped off the bed and walked to her bathroom. She filled the sink and washed her face, angry and hurt. She looked at her reflection, that terribly repugnant reflection and saw that her crying had only made her face worse. She forced herself to calm down and quietly dried her tears, applied lotion to her face as she always did and went back to look at the letter.

Lady Kermilla,

You have been given time to decide your course of action. You have been presented your options, and you have only those two options. You must decide what you will do.

A short note, one that was written and signed by the steward, though she knew that Lady Sabrina had dictated the meaning. She had two choices, no, that wasn't right. She had three choices. She could pick one of the options that Lady Sabrina had offered her on Winsol, or she could not reply, at which point the queen of Dharo would decide for her and it would be even worse than the options she'd already been presented. She might not even be allowed to serve in any court in Dharo at all.

She quietly rose, going and finding her own personal stationary to write her response. She'd been presented with two options at Winsol: she could either spend her entire life serving as second or third circle in another queen's court, helping other women build their lives and their dreams and having none of her own; or she could face the humiliation of repeating her training years, all of them, including extra lessons on protocol (like she didn't know them already). Now she had been presented a third choice.

Insomeways,she thought as she penned her response. Itwasneverachoicetobeginwith. She craved a court of her own. She'd won her first from Freckledy, won it by her own cunning that she'd learned all her life. She'd won it, but the first time it had been a good enough win. She would have to start over and it would be humiliating, but she wasn't going to give up the chance to rule just because of it. The next time she won a court they weren't going to leave her. She was only going to get men who appreciated her and who would bend to her every whim as they should, as she knew they should. She wouldn't be mean of course. She wasn't a twisted Queen, a bad Queen. She'd messed up, slipped up a little, but she hadn't won yet and she wasn't going to stop until she'd won where no one could ever take it from her.

She blew on the ink to let it dry and carefully folded up the paper, slipping it into an envelope and sealing it. She addressed it and found a shawl, using it to obscure he face to she could pass the letter to a servant to deliver. She didn't want anyone to see her face.

A/N: Kermilla is explained in a weird way. I think Anne Bishop isn't used to writing a character who is bad, but not all over evil, not as a main villain of a story. Kermilla's not completely stupid. She knows how and why she must care for the land, and I doubt she would ever shirk that duty, and she knows how not to deal with a Warlord Prince, though the parts of her that shine out the most rub the males in the story wrong. She is a character who has good ideas and even good intent, but it gets lost under crushing personality flaws.

Something else: people don't just spontaneously turn out bad. She steals things, and the only explanation that's given is that her father spoils her. I feel like, from how I saw her father react to her and her mother, and how I saw the mother, that Kermilla's mother has a lot of control over the house. I actually got feelings from my first few readings that she was actually a problem in Kermilla's life. Kermilla is spoiled, but the kind of spoiled that doesn't come from getting everything you want, but comes from getting what you want in place of being loved.

This will include a romance for Kermilla, though not immediately. I'm dead tired or I'd include a bit more, but this is just chapter one. I already had scenes and things plotted out in my head. I'm not dropping Jazen, but this idea won't go away!

Also, does anyone know the "Duchess Kermilla" stories from Neopets? It's been like maybe 7 years since I read one, but I honestly think of that story when I hear her name… also it sounds like the name for Kermit the Frog and Ms. Piggy's first little girl, doesn't it?