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Originally a young child of nine, Rosamund was bright and always singing for her father. Insisting to learn all these languages, so she could sing to anyone and everyone. She was the light of her Grandfather's eyes and the thing that kept the old doll maker going. The German dollmaker knew his time was coming to a close and had intended to leave everything he owned within the hands of his granddaughter. All the dolls, tools, and later when she was old enough, the business as well. There was one doll that Rosamund especially loved. A doll of brown curls, and bright unusual silver eyes. It was so different than her own blonde and blue but she loved the doll dearly and the old man knew it would keep her company when he was gone.
He did not expect a scorned niece to come barging into his shop late one night, killing Rosamund in her sleep and setting everything on fire. It was the cliche 'if I can't have this, no one can' scenario that he had thought her to be above. In desperation, anger, and selfishness, the old man begged out for help. He called upon a demon. Making a deal, he would give up his own soul to return the freshly lost child's. It was tricky, she was meant to go to a better place, so it cost him dearly. No one would remember him. No one would remember this shop. Rosamund. Anything. His whole family would be gone. Not that there was much left, the demon tacked on with a raised eyebrow.
The old man quickly agreed. Anything. Anything to have her back, and give her the life she was meant to have. He wrote a note for the child and the deal was sealed. Amongst fire, smoke, and ash, silver eyes rimmed blue had opened up. A large figure knelt before her and quieted her as she screamed. "Your name is Rosamund Noire. " The little doll was handed a scorched letter and carried out of the fire. Nothing else was explained, no words exchanged at all, until she was set down upon a doorstep. "Never remove this flower. Do not let it get damaged. It has protections to keep it safe but it is not fool proof. "
Then the figure was gone. Leaving the possessed doll lost. Rosamund..her name was Rosamund Noire. She was...she liked singing right? Yes! And she could sing in many languages! She loved to make people happy! And she lived with....who..? There were no memories. Only facts Rosamund knew of herself but no distinct memories. For Rosamund had grown up with her grandfather...that no longer existed and thus all her memories from were gone.

Since then, the little possessed doll went from home to home. At first happily living together with a new child. Once the humans had found out that she could move and talk that would quickly change. If it was not her being alive, it would be those unnatural eyes she herself once upon a time loved. So she was thrown around, sometimes figuratively, sometimes literally. One day that all changed. Upon being thrown out by someone that had been visiting Mahou Wando, two shopkeepers noticed her treatment..and the fact she was alive. The more motherly of the two instantly scooped her up and began to threaten the one who harmed her. It was already taken care of, however. For wrapped in purple thread, struggling to breathe, was the terrified one who had thrown her so harshly and almost shattered her. The one holding the ends of the thread was an enraged blonde with piercing eyes and a fanged snarl. The man was only let go when the patrol arrived, and since then Rosamund has been living with Nikolai. Her new papa. Occasionally Nadhiya would drop by to help out and watch over her as well.