>The worm gives in.

Of course it is.

The serpent in the pit is talking, but not exactly. Your mind is saying what the serpent is saying.

Of course this is what you always wanted. It is what resides in the pit of your heart. You will throw that man into the pit and dust yourself off and go on to live a life where you are at last respected. Where everything you desire is at your fingertips.

But you sort of—

You feel it within your breast, that warm swell of certainty; of knowing that you have achieved at last a happy ending. You lift your face out of the pit and smile at your loyal prince. Then you scowl at the loathèd prisoner, who you have always craved to kill. He is but the first of your enemies who will see retribution.

The prisoner has been beaten and silenced and will not pose resistance as you haul him to his feet. You had considered lopping his legs off, to put him at a more tolerable height, but he would've bled out long before you could put him in the snake pit. It is no fun to kick a corpse in. You wish to hear the screams, as does the snake.

The snakes. There should be—

You do not care about the quantity of snakes in the pit. It is a snake pit. Snake indicates singular. You are entirely satisfied with the contents of the pit, which you personally commissioned, so you could throw targets of your ire into it. You have devoted a great deal of time to contemplating this, and it is to your satisfaction.

Now, you push the prisoner to the very edge of the pit. Your prince-consort watches adoringly, as does the guard, one of many thousands devoted to serving you and you alone. The prisoner, afraid of your majesty, awaits his doom. You will give it to him, and then you will leave this room and go off untroubled.

You brace your hand against the prisoner's back and push him into the pit.

You push him into the pit.

You push him into the pit.

You push him into the pit.

You push him into the—