[@ineffable]
The King's chanting came to a dead stop. He didn't even move his hands from their folded position for several seconds as he processed what his daughter had just done.

"Isabella Dragan Stonebridge," he began, his tone low and threatening, "do you know what you have done?"

As servants lit candles around the room, they could see courtiers cowering behind pillars and furniture. Isabella's elder step-brother, Prince Tristane of Rhoamin, had turned deathly pale. Master Merl, the kingdom's greatest living archmage, gripped his staff until his knuckles turned white. All eyes turned to Isabella, some in relief, some in hatred. At the foot of the throne lay the reason for it all:

Her step-sister, Princess Evelyn.

She was still just as beautiful as last remembered. Her enviable golden hair scattered the candlelight all over the castle floor, and the soft features that lined her gentle face served only to express the gentle spirit that lay within. Yet, there was something wrong with her. She had grown somewhat gaunt, and there was a touch of unnatural gray in her normally pink complexion that would have given any trained physician pause.

The king finally looked up at Isabella, his face contorted with sorrow and rage. "DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE!?" he shrieked. "I WAS TRYING TO SAVE YOUR SISTER! FOOLISH GIRL!" He marched over to Isabella and slapped her.
Hard.
Twice.
"Your sister has been possessed, the Elder Dragon is coming for us, orcs are gathering in the north, and you've just destroyed our only chance at stopping all of it in one swoop. And you have the temerity to laugh at me?" He began to pace the floor, waving his hands wildly as he spoke. "Only Divine Weapons may harm the Elder Dragon, and the only being in the world aside from angels or demons known to carry them is the Grim Reaper, whom I was [i]trying[/i] to summon until you so rudely interrupted me."

He motioned for the guards to approach.

"I think some time in the dungeon should teach you a lesson."