My name is Ephialtes, my title: traitor.
You may not believe my words when I say I didn't intend to betray my fellow Spartans. But in the beginning it was true. I wanted to fight with them! To be one of them, accepted as a warrior, a brother, a comrade. So I followed, day and night as they marched tirelessly forward, never resting. They were magnificent, and I wanted nothing more than to belong.
I thought maybe if I kept up with them, they would see my stamina. If I could just talk to the King, prove my loyalty, my strength. I trained like any other Spartan child, spent long hours fighting and killing. I could fight! Why wouldn't they welcome me?
I should have known better. My people abandoned me at the moment of my birth, why did I ever hope they would accept me now? Born disfigured it was my destiny to be thrown to the rocks, killed for something I had no control over. The gods mangled my body, hunched my back, gnarled my limbs.
My title should be fool.
I remember the despair that enveloped me as I was told to lift the shield and heard the final judgment brought forth from perfect lips when I failed. Agony worse than any wound burned through me and I realized what history told me all along. I would never be a Spartan. Howling into the sky I dropped to my knees and cursed the gods and the man I wanted to call King. He would pay, they all would.
I knew of the goat path. I, the man they thought worthless, would bring about their ruin. I would not help drag bodies from the field, I would put them there. They would not forget me so soon.
No one paid me mind as I snuck out into the night. They thought I would simply go lick my wounds then return to lap at their feet. Never! Getting in to see the Persian was just as simple a feat. And there I felt accepted for the first time in my life. Standing there, all my dreams were within my grasp.
The power radiated from Xerxes in waves. He was beautiful and yet at his command his women flocked to me. They caressed my skin, danced for me and did things to me I dare not write. Spartans lived a life of sparse hell; the Persians lived in an opulent heaven. How do you refuse so tempting an offer? You say you would have passed such a sumptuous offer by and I say you lie.
But in the end I still remember the disdain on their faces, the defiance in their words as they faced their deaths. And when the King prayed I lived forever, I wanted nothing more than to die.
For after all is said and done, I am only a worthless traitor.