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Synopsis

Kang Areum has long understood that there is no true honour in martyrdom, no glory in being a sacrifice. A martyr, once dead, is merely a symbol—useful only as a hollow banner raised for causes they could no longer fight for. The dead have no voice, no agency; they are ghosts who wandered from door to door, pleading with the living, their wounds open and weeping, only to be turned away. It is not until their final breath that they are remembered, their bones gathered with reverence when all that is left of them is silence. The world is quick to discard the dying, but equally swift to consecrate their graves.

Areum had known this bitter truth ever since her mother became one—choosing a cause more precious than her own children, trading her life for a vision Areum could not begin to understand just yet. But she would not follow her mother's path and become a relic of a war she could no longer participate in. No, she had no desire for a noble death when she was hungry for life, her survival instinct burning with the fierce desperation of a stray mutt, teeth bared, clamped tight around the raw sinew of existence. She would hold on, clawing and snarling, with every last shred of will.

Perhaps, though, she had inherited more of her mother's spirit than she dared admit. Not even the blood of her father could wash that stubbornness from her veins. Her father, who eventually sought her out in some vain attempt at redemption, trying to right a wrong too far in the past to heal. He thought that by offering her shelter, by raising what was left of her childhood, he could make amends—and he wasn't wrong. There was little in this world that wealth couldn't fix, and the Rosier patriarch had no shortage of gold. 

The cold, emotionless halls of the Rosier estate in the French countryside were a far cry from the slums of the women's shelter where her mother had raised her, but Areum welcomed the quiet. It was a fair trade, enduring the menace of her father's legitimate daughter, even surviving the blatant attempts on her life, if it meant crawling out of the hole she had been born into, and Areum would endure it all with the same tenacity that had kept her alive thus far.

Despite her defiance, Areum felt herself pulled back into the same current that once swept her mother away, into the thick of a battle long past its inception. Her father insisted she attend Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, urging her to reclaim the heritage her mother had concealed for so long, but beyond that, he did not dictate her life, and so, she often slipped from the austere halls of the institute, finding herself at the heart of every protest and riot that she could reach, tasting rebellion with a thirst she refused to quench. But unlike her mother, she was determined not to die, ironic as it was, for she craved the danger that placed her at death's door time and time again. Yet she vowed to live long enough to see the fight through, even if it would take decades for women in France to claim the right to vote.

Then the world erupted into madness. War scorched the earth, and Areum, unflinching, plunged into its heart once more, this time as a trench nurse. For four long years, she tended to the broken, wading through the endless mire of blood and bone. The cries of soldiers filled her ears—young men who called for mothers, sisters, wives, and children that would never come. In their final moments, they found only her cold, practiced hands, her face an indifferent mask to their pleas, but she never managed to fully tune out their delirious murmurs as death claimed them, the names they uttered dissolving into the battlefield.

And then there was the one soldier who was different. Wizards, on this side of the war, were rare. The Ministry had forbidden their kind from meddling in a Muggle conflict, but plenty had found their own ways of exhibiting mutiny, and Areum's last patient was one such revolutionary. Whether he was too noble, or too foolish, to ignore the call, it did not matter, and for his troubles, he had earned a wound—a hole clean through his head. Areum never learned his name, and he had come to her another almost casualty, one of the final men she would treat before the war reached its horrifying culmination. He, too, was then lost in the chaos that followed the Armistice, buried beneath the rubble, just as countless others had been, and to her, he became another ghost of the trenches. 

Years later, Kang Areum has shed her past like a second skin, now living as Eurydice Rosier—a name bequeathed to her by her father, along with a carefully placed position in the British Ministry of Magic. As an Unspeakable, the Order of Lazarus was a fitting home for her, her wartime experiences having cultivated a morbid fascination with death. Within its frigid chambers, she experiments with the thin veil between life and the beyond, all while keeping alive her passion for suffrage. Yet, between her nocturnal exploits—militant activities disapproved of by both muggle and magical law enforcement—and the burden of her daily duties, an unfortunate incident lands her on the wrong side of fate.

Temporarily reassigned to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's clean-up crew, she now finds herself responsible for mending the magical damage left in the wake of their pursuits—an odious task far beneath her capabilities. It is, no doubt, the higher-ups' grim way of instilling humility—an unwanted lesson in obedience. Her plan is simple: keep her head down, remain unseen, and endure, but this becomes near impossible when she realizes that the Auror in charge of her new team is a spectre from her past. With a penchant for meddling in matters he should leave untouched, his relentless curiosity threatens to fracture the careful anonymity she's fought so hard to maintain. 

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Theseus Scamander can never escape his past. The scent of blood swathes his memories, and even his illustrious title as 'war hero' does little to banish it. At his worst, his body still betrays him—muscles locking, breath faltering—as though he were thrust back into the trenches, surrounded by despair. The pain was etched into his bones, impossible to forget, but so, too, was the memory of hands—soft and fleeting—that once soothed his fevered brow, though he cannot remember the face that went with them, that wraithlike figure that offered him solace. He had tried to drown the recollections in drink, sinking deeper until he was submerged in a darkness of his own making, but those days are long past. 

Years of sobriety have sharpened his focus, and now he stands on the brink of a promotion, poised to become the next head of the British Auror Department. It is within his grasp, but even the most well-laid plans have a way of unravelling, and so his team is assigned a new member—Eurydice Rosier, a notorious legacy hire, whispered about for her cushioned path into the Ministry. Rumours of her privilege and lack of work ethic precede her and her cold demeanour does little to dispel them. Still, Theseus is forced to uphold a facade of professionalism, to guide his team toward success, for his ambition is paramount, and nothing—not even this strange girl—will derail him.

But Eurydice is no ordinary recruit. Beneath her aloofness, there is something unnervingly familiar. In the half-light of passing moments, in a glance or a turn of her head, Theseus swears he has seen her before, known her before, though he cannot place where or when. Her presence unsettles him, and worse still is her flagrant disregard for the rules. Where he is a staunch enforcer of the law—the Statute of Secrecy, the Ministry's iron-clad restrictions—his aggravating coworker teeters too close to the forbidden edges. He cannot fathom her true goals, or what game she is playing, but he is certain it leads nowhere good. And so, with the weight of duty heavy on his shoulders, he vows to stop her, whatever it is she seeks to achieve, even as he grapples with the ghostly sense that in some forgotten life, they were not strangers.

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"I know indeed what evil I intend to do,
but stronger than all my afterthoughts is my fury,
fury that brings upon mortals the greatest evils."
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Cast

Kang Areum/Eurydice Rosier

"God is dead and his hellfire burns in me."

Theseus Scamander

"Forgiveness I may grant to all, no act's too grave or sin's too much and yet, no matter how small, I dare not grant myself as such."

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How will you remember?: Orpheus

Euryudice: That I loved you?

Yes: Orpheus

Euryudice: That's easy. I can't help it.

We should get away, just you and I: Orpheus

Euryudice: Away from what?

Our destiny: Orpheus

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Playlist

1. Afraid - The Neighbourhood
2. Fruits - Paris Paloma
3. Milk of the Siren - Melanie Martinez
4. Man's World - MARINA
5. Hayloft II - Mother Mother
6. Glory and gore - Lorde
7. I'm Not Yours - The Haunt
8. Ptolemea - Ethel Cain
9. King - Florence + The Machine
10. Angry Too - Lola Blanc
11. Family Tree - Ethel Cain
12. Can People Really Change? - The Haunt

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"It's time to forgive my hands for being hands.
I'm going to hate myself a little less tomorrow.
I'm going to hate myself a little less tomorrow."
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Tropes/themes:

- reverse Orpheus and Eurydice
- Workplace rivals 
- forced proximity
- nurse x soldier (briefly)
- amnesia
- feminist/suffragette themes and ideologies
- Politics (wizarding world + mortal world)
- Period typical sexism/patriarchy/racism/xenophobia 

Warnings: graphic depictions of war, exploration of war trauma/PTSD, mental health issues, human experimentation (Frankenstein core), fanaticism, discrimination, forcible-feeding/eating disorders, mentions of unsafe abortions/forced miscarriage, necromancy, death/resurrections, manipulation, poisoning (Aqua Tofana core), radical acts for the 'greater good'.

Will not be putting trigger warnings at the beginning of each chapter so you have been warned. Will update this list if anything changes but for the most part this should be it. 

A/N: we are so back! I've been planning its fic for a while, but I didn't wanna post anything until I had something concrete instead of pure vibes. If you recognize some of the characters/plot points (pretend you didn't lol). I have recycled a lot of my Tom Riddle fic (Daughter's of Cain) in this fic because I was super attached to the suffragette themes and I feel like it just fits better in this time period. This fic will mostly focus on suffrage in England, with slight mentions of its French counterparts since the MC grew up in France and has a history there. Also, Orpheus and Eurydice retelling-ish :) except she's Orpheus and he's Eurydice (non-canon compliant, like at all, cuz this is mostly pre-fantastic beasts). 

Mini history lesson: While the suffragists laid the groundwork through years of steady, respectful campaigning, and peaceful lobbying, the suffragettes ensured the issue could not be ignored, using their militant tactics (including violent/unlawful acts) to keep it in the public and political spotlight. Their marches and vandalization often led to violent arrests where they were assaulted and beaten by police officers. In 1908, they began using hunger strikes as a form of protest when imprisoned, and the government responded by force-feeding them, a brutal practice in which tubes were forced down their throats or noses to administer liquid food, leading to severe physical and psychological suffering. This was widely condemned and became a public relations disaster for the government, drawing attention to the suffragettes' cause and the cruelty they endured, and those who died became martyrs for their cause. 

In 1914, the movement paused militant activities to support the war effort (World War 1), and their contributions began changing public opinion about women's roles in society. Finally, women over the age of 30 won the right to vote in England in 1918, provided they, or their husbands, met a property qualification. Then, in 1928, the Equal Franchise Act gave them equal voting rights with men. Thus, all women aged over 21 could now vote in elections. In France, however, women only gained equal suffrage in 1944. 

Now this isn't going to be entirely historically accurate. I will be taking inspiration from such real events and milestones during the English suffrage movement that took place from 1903 to 1929 and onwards. However, most of the characters the OC will be interacting with will also be made up in relation to actual historical figures, she isn't going to be having tea with THE Emmeline Pankhurst unfortunately (lol I wish, but this isn't Dante's Inferno). I just don't want to be writing about the actual historical figures or ascribing their personalities/actions as if they were OCs. 

While the origins of the suffragettes and feminism are often rooted in racism, it was still a step forward in some capacity and paved the way for future progress. This fic will explore that, as well as the importance of intersectional feminism because women of colour did exist in the 1900s, even if they aren't always remembered as being at the forefront of these battles to gain independence. 

As usual, don't be a ghost reader. I live for yalls comments/questions/concerns/reactions, even a keyboard smash is highly appreciated and encouraged. Love yall lots <3