The Immortal Gazette studio was alive with the usual blend of chaos and casualness. Loki lounged on a velvet chair, feet up on the table, exuding his usual air of smugness, while Alice sat across from him, sipping her tea with the kind of nonchalance that only someone who has lived through everything can pull off. Rumplestiltskin, ever the schemer, was pacing in front of a massive, ancient map, his fingers tracing the terrain as he contemplated the Battle of Thermopylae.
"Ah, the Battle of Thermopylae," Rumplestiltskin said with a smirk, his voice smooth and calculating. "An entire army of Persians—vast, practically unstoppable—and the Spartans, a mere 300 men standing in their way. Bravery, courage, and...well, stubborn stupidity." He paused, his fingers hovering over a spot on the map. "I’ll give the Spartans credit—they knew how to make a stand, but let’s be honest here, it was a horribly poor strategic choice. They could have done better."
Alice, who had been swirling her tea with a casual air, narrowed her eyes. "Poor strategic choice? They were Spartans, dearie. They didn’t know anything except stubbornness and courage. ‘Better’ was never on the agenda." She took a deliberate sip, her eyes never leaving Rumplestiltskin. "Besides, you of all people should appreciate a good distraction, Rumple. Their stand against the Persians wasn’t just a battle, it was an art of misdirection."
Loki chuckled, reclining in his chair, his fingers twirling lazily in the air. "Oh, please, Alice, let’s not get too romantic about this, shall we? They were just a bunch of glorified warriors playing to their pride. The real strategy was simply to delay the inevitable. Don’t get me wrong, I admire the drama of it all—but standing there, facing thousands for a doomed cause? How terribly... heroic."
"Yes, heroic," Alice drawled, the sarcasm dripping from her voice. "It’s not like they didn’t know they were going to die. King Leonidas practically invited it. He knew the odds were stacked, knew the Persians would eventually outflank them, but he didn’t care." She shot Rumplestiltskin a knowing look. "No escape tunnels for these guys, right? No clever tricks to worm their way out of it."
Rumplestiltskin gave a mock gasp. "And miss out on the drama of it all? Never! But let's be honest, if I were there, I’d have opened up a few hidden tunnels for them. Perhaps some secret routes to escape in the middle of the night—always leave a few options open, that’s my motto." He smirked. "Or, better yet, I’d have turned the Persians’ own ego against them. Use their overwhelming numbers to create confusion, a little chaos in the ranks—just enough to buy some time. But nooooo, Leonidas and his warrior poets had to die gloriously instead."
Alice raised an eyebrow, her expression one of total indifference, as if she were discussing the weather. "Sure, sure, Rumple. But where’s the fun in that? There’s a beauty in standing tall, even when the odds are stacked against you." Her voice softened to a more contemplative tone. "These Spartans—they were unyielding. They didn’t need a secret tunnel or a clever trick. They knew what they were doing. The odds didn’t scare them. Not because they were fools, but because they believed in the bigger picture." She shrugged, unfazed by the overwhelming odds. "Sometimes, that’s enough."
Loki snorted. "Ah, yes, the ‘greater good’ speech. How very Noble Warrior of you, Alice." He grinned, clearly enjoying poking at her. "Tell me, how would you fare, sitting there, waiting for an endless stream of Persians to just walk right over you?"
Alice stared at him, her dark eyes gleaming with a knowing intensity. "If I were Leonidas? I’d do what he did—stand my ground and make sure my enemy remembers my name. Just as he did. And I wouldn’t waste my time with speeches or endless strategy talks. I'd let my actions speak for themselves, Loki. But maybe that’s too...simple for you."
"Simple?" Loki leaned forward, his eyes narrowed. "You know, Alice, I’ve seen simplicity in action, and it’s usually way more chaotic than you realize."
Alice shot him a sly grin. "True. But chaos is an art, Loki, not a strategy." She turned her attention back to Rumplestiltskin. "You, on the other hand, would have been way too busy making deals with the Persians for your own gain, wouldn’t you? After all, who needs an alliance with the enemy when you can just reap the spoils?"
Rumplestiltskin raised his hands in mock surrender. "Guilty as charged. But let’s face it—sometimes, it’s not about winning the battle; it’s about winning after the battle." He grinned wickedly. "I would have set up a nice little post-battle arrangement with the Persians. Have them think they’ve won, and then use their victory to extract more favors, of course. Maybe some land, or even a couple of immortal slaves for my personal collection."
Alice gave him a pointed look. "Aren’t you the sweetest thing, Rumple? You’re the reason heroes get so mad at the idea of tricksters. You’d have turned the entire battle into one big game of 'Let’s see how much I can take from both sides.'"
Loki, clearly amused, chimed in. "Well, I wouldn’t disagree with that. I’d probably stir the pot a little bit, maybe whisper a few lies in the Persian king’s ear about the Spartans’ weaknesses—nothing too major, just a little misdirection to confuse them."
Alice looked at them both, her lips curling into a small, knowing smile. "And in the end, nothing would change, would it? Whether it’s gods, mortals, or even immortals like us, the Spartans still would have held their ground. Because that’s the thing with people like Leonidas—sometimes, stubbornness is just another word for resolve."
Rumplestiltskin tilted his head, giving Alice a slow, approving nod. "You know, Alice, for someone who claims to know nothing about strategy, you certainly understand the game better than most."
Loki let out a low laugh. "It’s Alice, my friend. She’s the kind of force that doesn’t get caught up in the details. She just goes straight for the jugular."
Alice shrugged, unbothered. "Why waste time overcomplicating things, when you could be enjoying the view?"
As the three of them sat back in their seats, the conversation turned quieter, the shadows in the studio stretching long as they all considered the real lesson of Thermopylae. It wasn’t about clever tricks or endless strategies. It was about the unyielding resolve of those who know when to stand tall—no matter the cost.
