The battle raged for days.
Leonidas had been in his share of fights. He was a Spartan king; his natural place was on the front lines of a battlefield, slashing and stabbing his way to a glorious victory. He had slashed. He had stabbed. He had fought and killed until he had lost count of the Persians dead by his hand...but in his heart, he knew that there would be no victory here in the battle of the Hot Gates.
His Spartans were fearless. Many of them had fought beside him in the past. He knew them as his countrymen, his brothers in legacy. They were dying as the battle went on. They were outnumbered, they had known that since the beginning. They were facing foes armed with strange beasts and even stranger magic. The Spartans reveled in the fight, but they were losing out quickly.
Leonidas had known that no negotiations would sway Xerxes. The man- for he was a man, not a living god- was consumed with his need to expand the Persain empire. He saw the Spartans as an amusing "tribe" of people, useful to him only as future slaves. He saw their complete rebellion as a cute diversion. Leonidas saw this battle as the only way to prevent Sparta from being overcome with tyranny.
He sought to postpone the inevitable war that would come; this battle would give his people time to prepare.
He looked behind him and saw that his camp- half the size it had been when they had started out- was settling in for a night of needed rest. There had been much killing, and yet it was never enough. Leonidas knew enough history to know that for as long as men have walked the earth, they have thrilled in the defeat of their foes.
And women? They live only to stand by and watch as men destroy themselves...
He thought of Gorgo and the hell he had brought onto her with his impulsive nature. She was alone in Sparta now; the only royal of age to direct the city. Their first son was still too young to understand anything of the world around him, he had not yet entered his trials of the agoge! Leonidas blinked. He would not be there next year, to comfort Gorgo once their son was taken from the palace.
It was a strange thought to have, to know that he would not see his family, or Sparta ever again. That he would die, finally, here in battle beside his fellow warriors, fighting to protect all that he loved. His first son would have few memories of him. His others would have none at all. Gorgo would remember him, and mourn. And then, she would remarry. Or worse.
Leonidas looked off into the distance and gripped his sword tighter.
If the Senate did nothing, Sparta would be unprepared and then overtaken. His children would be killed. His wife would be raped, enslaved or killed along with the other Spartans in power. The king allowed a sigh to escape him; he could feel his own end coming, but his thoughts were sharp with dread for the end of his people. The Spartan legacy of discipline, control and strength would be lost. History would remember him as the king that could not save his city, or Xerxes would have all of Greece erased from history and Sparta would be truly lost- obliterated, just as the bastard king had threatened.
He shook his head slightly as a light rain began to fall. He chose to think of it as a blessing sent to them by his queen's prayers. He listened as several Spartans awoke and brought out pots to capture the water. War gave a man deep thirst.
If it was in my power to change the world, I would do so only to protect you, Gorgo...
He set his thoughts to a happier time to ease the growing ache within his heart.
It had been two years before, when Gorgo had expressed to him a wish to escape their hectic lives in the palace for just one day. Unable to deny such a small request, Leonidas had taken her away to a place he recalled that his own mother had once taken him. It was a field of golden wheat, growing on the eastern side of a foothill, far from Sparta. They had left their horses to drink at a nearby stream, and looked over their city from the hill's crest.
Leonidas had brought a blanket and Gorgo had had her servants pack them a meal. They had ate, and spoken plainly, free to laugh and tease and play to their hearts' content. With Gorgo, Leonidas felt younger, more carefree. He was not a king with her, he was only a man. Her husband. Gorgo had laid down on the blanket he'd spread on the grass and she had looked up at him. He remembered thinking that he had seen the world in her eyes.
"Husband, I am again with child." She had said.
Leonidas had been moved with happiness. Where some men were uncertain, Leonidas rejoyced in fatherhood. He had kissed her in his joy.
It was a golden time for them.
To preserve the opportunity for his sons to have such a time, Leonidas knew he would give his life.