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Work in progress bio:
Viola Dorthal. All she knew was her name, a name that was one-half slave, one-half her tribe. She couldn't remember her true name anymore nor her "old life" as a child other than the constant violence she was so used to.Â
A slave to violence. That's what she was, but she was as much its mistress as she was its slave. How strange, she thought, that she'd end up becoming a literal slave at the turn of her ninth summer when she had found and decided to kill a poor jewelcrafter and his wife.
Make no mistake, she had killed them but in turn she was bested by a passing Dark Knight, attacking him with such a ferver and sustaining wounds that made him impressed and instead of killing her, he subdued her and as punishment forced her to wear the brooch that crafter had finished making for her before his death. Yes, that was as far as she could remember. The first time she was called "Viola". A constant reminder of the Jewelcrafter and his wife that she had murdered for the sake of doing so.
She had tried constantly at first to break away from her captor and every single time he would stop her, one time even purposely breaking one of her legs so she couldn't run. He never tortured her and he always treated her sternly, like a father to a misbehaving child. She had hated him. She liked killing and the one time she had gotten the chance to kill him in his sleep, she wouldn't. She couldn't. During this time with the knife in her hand, she became hurt, the want to kill the very man who had "captured" her in the first place not there.
The next few years, the Dark Knight taught her how to use a greatsword, knowing full well she could never turn against him, even if she wanted to. How to channel her murderous intent into a focused art instead of just for pleasure. He trained her down to the very basics of even interacting with people, forcing her to act as a "princess" should. Of course, she never understood why she should act like royalty, but he had made it perfectly clear that she would act lady like or she'd be punished for it.
Of course, he never said she couldn't kill others, but he made it one of his core teachings that death were for those who deserved it. "Not the innocent", he said. "You will kill who I say, and you will not object." At this point, they had a bond, even despite their differences, and how much she still showed dislike for him at times, she could only nod in agreement.
On her fifteenth summer, she was finally free. Free to do whatever she pleased. With a smile, she held the very crystal he had used as a Dark Knight, his training etched completely into the fiber of her being. Free to roam. Free to kill. Or so she had thought. The first person she had come across was a lalafell. A plainsfolk. Before the little merchant could cry for help, she unsheathed her zweihander, only for the blade to literally stop within ilms of his face.
Before she could react, the now middle-aged Dark Knight, who had somehow trailed her dropped her onto the ground, disarming her at the same time. She didn't remember much after that, having felt the blow of the side of the blade just before being knocked out from the impact.
It has been four years since then. No more the disobedient child, she took a deep breath. The Dark Knight who had captured and raised her was now proud of her as she bowed politely. The young Au Ra, now grown up, had become what the Dark Knight called a "perfect princess", she followed everything he said, practically being with him every chance she had until one day where he had handed her the very crystal she had tried to steal before. "Go forth and make me proud, daughter." It was the first time she cried, and not long after, she set out to Ishgard like he had requested, to find the history of the group known as 'Dark Knights.'