Summer, August 1917, The Battle of Pilckem Ridge, Belgium
Note: this was inspired from when Zoë mentioned in the Titan's Curse that she was there at the Third Battle of Ypres, during World War One. I thought it would be an interesting prompt to base a short story off of, and did an infinitesimal amount of study on it. You are welcome to correct any factually incorrect statements or historical mistakes that I have made.
"This is...horrifying," Helen muttered in awed shock.
Artemis simply nodded as she gazed out at the horrifically bloody scene of battle. She had brought her Hunters here for that sole purpose: to show them, in person, the horrors of war. Even through the thick veil of the Mist that they were enclosed in, the sickening scent of blood and gore permeated the atmosphere. The broken forms of mortal men lay stiffly on the battlefield, each and every single one of the bodies sustaining some form of terrible injury or wound, the blood-red color of the rising sun only serving to add a backdrop to the already terrifying atmosphere. The cries of the wounded filled the air along with the unending rattle of machine guns and rifles and explosions from grenades that left even the goddess's ears ringing. She spotted a mop of blonde hair out of the hundreds, if not thousands of blood-covered, motionless bodies on the ground. The boy's hat had fallen off sometime during the battle, and his pale, lifeless face was as clear as day to the goddess's sharp eyesight. He couldn't have been very old at all, perhaps around eighteen or nineteen years old, and despite her general dislike of the male gender, Artemis couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the innocent life that had been so cruelly ripped away from him and his family.
Forcing her eyes away from the morbid sight, Artemis scanned the battlefield once more. The British troops, originally having the element of surprise while pushing forwards under the cover of darkness and mist, were slowly being pushed back as the Germans' Eingreif divisions, designed for instantly counter-attacking any who broke through their Stellungdivisionen (front-holding units) successfully held off the British advancements as the German soldiers slowly started trickling forward under the cover of their heavy artillery fire. The increasing numbers of British bodies appearing on the battlefield bode nothing but ill for the Allied forces.
Besides her, Lydia's face was green with revulsion and horror. The daughter of Demeter, who joined them some two millennia during the peak of the Roman Empire, had always been a quiet and conserved soul, so Artemis was only mildly surprised when the girl stumbled forwards, nearly bursting out of the protective cocoon of magic, but Phoebe grabbed her shoulders and held her steady as she emptied the contents of her stomach on the ground.
The vomiting had finally stopped after around a minute of non-stop puking, followed by another minute or so of dry-heaving and retching, but the poor girl was still breathing in short and shallow gasps. Zoë, her ever-considerate Lieutenant, put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"If this is too much for thee, I am sure Lady Artemis would allow you to leave," she told her gently, looking at Artemis for confirmation. After a moment of hesitation, stopped by a pointed, nearly pleading look from Zoë, Artemis relented.
"Very well," she said, raising her voice so all the girls could hear her. "All of you may choose to leave, if the scenes become too disturbing."
One by one, the Hunters started retreating into the undergrowth behind her away from the battle. Even Phoebe, the hotheaded and (occasionally) violent daughter of Ares, left after another few minutes of listening to the cries and screams of agony. She retreated, shaking her head and muttering something along the lines of "why did I ever like war?" and "mortal men are disgusting". Every single girl left until it was only Artemis and Zoë left. The taller girl came up to the goddess and spoke, her eyes not straying from the scenes of battle.
"Perhaps bringing the girls here was a little too overboard, my lady," she suggested.
Artemis managed a smile. "While sickening and disgusting, the experience will do them well if they ever have to face war's horrors."
Zoë said nothing, but Artemis had the feeling that her Lieutenant did not totally agree with her statement.
After a moment of the pair gazing out at the carnage in silence, Zoë spoke again. "This battle is just the beginning," she said.
"Indeed," Artemis nodded. "The Germans cannot afford to give away Ypres, so they will fight to their last breath, but the Allied forces will prove too strong for them. It will be a long, bloody campaign, potentially spanning weeks or even months, but the British will win."
"Perhaps not today," Zoë pointed out. "The British divisions have lost their element of surprise. They must retreat and regroup before they are completely obliterated. I suspect that the generals will order a withdrawal towards one of the nearby farms behind them."
Artemis shook her head in amusement. "This was not meant to be a discussion of strategy, my dear. It is unlikely that the Hunt will ever participate in a war if this magnitude."
Zoë shook her head in confusion. "What is the purpose of this?" she asked.
"The purpose of what?" Artemis replied with a question, earning an annoyed glance from her Lieutenant. She knew as well as her that the goddess knew what she was asking.
"The purpose of this battle," she clarified nonetheless, gesturing at the ever-increasing amount of bodies on the blood-covered battlefield. "This war. Thousands of lives lost, and for what?"
"Power, my dear." Artemis took Zoë's hand and squeezed reassuringly. She had the feeling that Zoë was more unsettled than she let on by this scene. "Land. Military dominance. Mortal men are power-hungry. They will do anything to gain more, even at the cost of millions of innocent lives."
"But why?" Zoë questioned. "What will even more power give them? The country leaders have everything they ask for: food, riches, power, position. I fail to see what even more power can hope to accomplish."
Artemis smiled wryly. "A false sense of security, love." She stared at the still ongoing battle. The majority of the British troops in this area have either retreated or perished, but the German casualties were anything but small numbers, too. The ascending chariot of her brother gave the sky a blood-red tint. "Mortal men are paranoid. They will do anything, risk everything and everyone to reinforce their own positions of power."
Zoë shook her head, but this time in disgust. "So thou art saying that this whole war is due to the insecurities of world leaders?"
Artemis raised an eyebrow. "It is not so different from the world of the gods, if you consider the similarities. My father is in a constant power struggle with my uncles. In fact, I am almost certain that Poseidon and Hades are behind the Allied powers, attempting to end the German Empire that Zeus is so fond of once and for all, consequently forcing the flame of the West completely to Great Britain." She chuckled. "While I am neutral in the conflicts, I do agree with my uncles. Father has grown too arrogant in recent years for his own good, and it would prove beneficial for the whole of Olympus to have him knocked down a peg or two. And of course, this war is hopeless for the Central Powers. They simply do not have the numbers to outlast the Allied powers in the war."
She brushed a stray strand of hair behind Zoë's ear absently. "But enough about politics, my love. Come, let us head back to our camp. The girls are waiting."
Back at their temporary campsite, Artemis could immediately sense the sullen and morose mood permeating the atmosphere. Her normally bright and cheerful girls seemed upset, disgusted, revolted, and tired. Even Ari, the daughter of Hermes's normally bright and mischievous eyes were dark and solemn. Maybe Zoë was right, as usual, Artemis thought. The emotional duress the war put on the girl's minds might not have been worth the experience.
Zoë must have sensed her thoughts, because her Lieutenant gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "We have seen worse," she assured her. "The girls will be fine."
"I pray to the Fates that you are right, my dear," Artemis sighed. "I took the girls here because I had a premonition." It was true. As the sister of the god of prophecy, Artemis had a limited amount of the gift as well, and could occasionally receive random and unclear glimpses into the future. "I sense that in the near future, within the next century, something big will occur in Western Civilization that will shake the Greek world, and I wished for them to be ready."
"A war, my lady?" Zoë tightened her grip on Artemis's hand.
"Perhaps," Artemis murmured. "I cannot be sure yet."
"We have survived many wars before, my lady," Zoë pointed out. "Troy, Rome, Napoleon, and countless others. As long as we are together, everything will be fine."
Artemis, her previous somber mood immediately dispelled, couldn't help but smile. "Yes, you are right," she agreed. "As long as we are together."