Bold as brass.
His father he killed, as had his father before him. I am born into a family of parricides, of cowards and spendthrifts. As you know.
His aunt he swallowed, as his father devoured my many aunts and uncles. Swallowed, but not before churning one last sea change in her belly; the god of the sky still bears that much of you, our great progenitrix. They are always sowing, my family, always swelling toward a heavy harvest, helpless under your gentle law who flout so many others.
How you must have laughed, best-beloved enemy, to know me ripened fit to burst beneath the well-oiled curls of his head! Pricked with that old familiar pain, who never thought to bear it; snared at last and most fittingly within that mutable, insistent flesh — how delighted you must have been as he laid his gravid head upon the anvil and pled for sweet release!
Well, and so. He counts himself safe, but promises were made for keeping. Born leaping, I feel your pull, old strategist, and my own: vengeance and justice are allies in his dying. The will is yours, but the tools are mine. Together we will reason his kingdom into dust.