The guards' weapons trembled slightly. One of them, the young one with the fresh face, looked like he might vomit. The older scarred guard's eyes kept darting between the head in the box and Annabelle's cheerful expression, trying to reconcile the two things and failing.
"What have you done?" Lady Josephine's voice came out strangled, broken by sobs. "That's our son. Our boy. What have you DONE?"
"Delivered a gift," Annabelle replied brightly. "Like I said. Jack was precise about the presentation."
Joseph III's shock was crystallizing into rage, his face flushing red as comprehension replaced horror. "You... your brother murdered my son. My heir. You bring his head here like some kind of..."
"Trophy," S supplied helpfully. "The word you're looking for is trophy. Though 'message' also works. 'Warning' has a nice ring to it as well."
