Viktorien was born and raised in Ishgard to the low-born Fontaine family, he can’t remember what they were like - his mother and father. Always preoccupied with scraping the little work that was offered to them to keep their children’s mouths somewhat filled to keep them from crying about hunger. Their familial bond was quite and literally non-existent - Viktorien never saw them as his birth-parents, only as strangers he was related to by blood. It did not help that they weren’t the most pleasant of people - mother an unstable and hysterical woman meanwhile his father was a raging alcoholic. Or that is what he does recall of them, anyway.The one person he held dear and that was always there for him was his kin and kith - his older sibling. They looked so alike - almost as twins if she wasn’t near ten summers his senior. Both eyes of cerulean and hair darker than the blackest night, with skin adorned generously with moles. She would tell him that Halone, the Fury herself, has drawn constellations on their bodies as a mark of beauty - the thought of her brings back tenderness and comfort, then gut-wrenching realisation that she is forever gone, and the only last memory is her voice screaming, echoing.One cold Winter night, or was it early Spring? Viktorien can only feel the tightening of his throat and the suffocating smoke filling his lungs when reminiscing about that day. There is little he knows, being so young leaves such recollections in a thick fog. Flames that should have brought pleasant warmth only brought scorching heat, nearly whipping his being with its blinding radiance. How he managed to escape so unscathed, or why such an event was brought down upon him - he can’t tell. What he can tell, however, is the reason he is still breathing is because of his sister, and that they all had died that night.A pair of lower noble, strikingly blue Duskwights from the house Lestat adopted him some short time after. Viktorien never understood why him. What about him was so special that they had decided to take care of a spec of filth from the Brume - and a Hyur at that. He always stood out at family gatherings, social events and the like, always silently observing the people around him, how they feasted and laughed, garbed in expensive cloths and furs with little care about how the people lived down underneath them in the Foundation.

They gave him all that he could ever need, showered him with love and compassion while he stayed distant, confused as of why they were treating him as one of his own when he was clearly not. Even as their beloved daughter became their son, they did not mind, he brought them happiness just by simply being their child. And he still fails to grasp this.He always preferred to getting his hands filthy from dirt rather than the time-consuming artistry of the family glassmaking business - so when he joined the Temple Knights, it was to no surprise. As much as he enjoyed the freedom of being out in the open, unrestricted by the manners and etiquettes of nobles, the unpleasantness of such different circles caught up on him. His innocence and purity tainted by a fellow mate - one would think these people are lawful and hold themselves to good morals, not be the culprits. Viktorien won’t ever forget the pain piercing him in the abdomen, repeatedly stabbing him like a knife. The funny feeling - both physical and emotional turmoil that stirred deep in his core.The moment Viktorien brought home the title of Knight Dragoon, his family only rejoiced to see their child achieve so much in so little time, even when fear struck their worrying hearts in case they see their son for the last time when they bid him goodbyes as he was sent out to fight against Nidhogg’s brood. However his career of a Dragoon was short-lived, since the Warrior of Light drastically changed the course of Ishgardian history, Viktorien retired from his position after a couple of summers, feeling lost and betrayed by his own home, he left for seemingly no reason in the eyes of others, disappearing without a trace for many moons at a time.

Viktorien never stays in one place for extended periods of time, often jumping through the city-states to avoid any unwanted attention to his work as a sellsword - or to simply keep his head attached on his neck, but still keeping a sense of status and good enough reputation for the services he offers.

Perhaps words of mouth have stumbled upon you of his services in a local tavern, or you noticed a small note on the ground, a scrap of paper, with ink and dirt stains - some sort of a business card about when and where you can find him.
However, it is not guaranteed you will find him. Gods know how old the card may be?

Sellsword

House Lestat

If you are an Ishgardian noble, you might have encountered him at the many social events that the House Lestat would attend some fifteen to five summers ago. Or you may have caught a whisper of his name in association.

Viktorien was a squire of Ishgard’s Temple Knights for a few summers before he miraculously attained the Dragoon title at a fairly young age - if it was pure luck or skill is something only he knows. Maybe you exchanged a few glances or words here and there before he stepped down, and ventured out into the open world beyond Ishgard’s borders.

Order of the Knights Dragoon

Old "Friend"

One of his habits include seeking out people for companionship during episodes of excruciating boredom - those friendships do not last - ever. Perhaps you were one of the people he left hanging on or decided to cut off because he lost interest.

About me

About Viktorien and RP