PERSONALITY

Lady Eleanor Norcross is a mystery to those not from within the walls of her family estate. Servants of the family describe her as the light of home, forever bringing about smiles and laughter to those in her presence. This is due to her great sense of humor, kindness, and empathy (ie: She's empathetic with the villainous characters of life, believing their descent into evil was not their own doing but a result of events that surrounded them.). She knows little of the dangers of the world that surrounds her, having been grown in a safe, secure home with loving parents and two older brothers. A dreamer; she was often scolded by her Septa for drifting off during lessons to distant, fantasy lands. Talkative and verbose when giving thanks or speaking excitedly of something she's recently discovered, these were two traits that made her a favored Handmaiden among the others the half year she spent in King's Landing. There is the general sense that inside of the holding, she does what pleases her, whenever it pleases her without any rebuke. Eleanor is one to easily cry when upset, though it is something her father has implored that she never do in front of others, for it would not do well to reveal weakness. For all the coddling and shelter she has received over the years, Eleanor has managed to develop courage in the sense that she will boldly face her fears. Never one to hide what is one her mind, she has been caught by her mother more than once letting words that should rather have stayed in her mind than rolled off her tongue be spoken. It is the speculation of some that there is not much going on inside the mind of this young girl, when, while true regarding political matters, for that is something for her father and Arren to deal with, is false considering her attachment to books. Innocent and a bit naive, yes, but also a tad selfish and very spoiled. She is too soft-hearted to ever think of harming another or being harmed herself.

HISTORY

Eleanor is the youngest child and only daughter of Lord Arthur and Lady Leonette Norcross. Her early years were idlyic and safe, until one fatal night. Warmth is what she remembers first before the harsh, bitter feeling of her breath being taken from her throat clouds her thoughts. Long before the fire began when she had reached but her third year in this world, the little girl had drifted off, rolling over to cling to her brother’s shirt in her sleep once the boy had settled down beside her; she had always needed something to cling to, something that would allow her to know she was not alone. Her sleep had been restless that night, dreams of dark shadows with sharp claws reaching for her recurring throughout the hours. One of the shadows screamed, her physical body moved, and she found herself blinking the sleep from her eyes, awakening to noise.



Her eyes stared at her chubby fingers still clutching the back of her brother’s shirt as the screams continued. A tugging on her arm found her whipping her head backwards to see if it was one of the shadows from her nightmare come to steal her away. It was her mother’s face though that she saw staring back at her. The strong, caring woman’s face now bore a frantic expression of fear; it was the first time Eleanor had seen such an expression upon her mother’s face. It sent fear into her, young as she was. Whatever it was that could elicit such an expression from her mother was far worse than those shadows in her nightmare. The woman pried her fingers from her brother’s shirt, forcing her to stand along with her two siblings. No words were spoken as she cast cloaks over the three children and hurriedly ushered them through the door of the bedroom they'd been in. Later on, Eleanor would remember that it had been the home of her mother's elder sister, an Aunt whose name she could not recall.



Fear overtook her at this moment, the sting of salty tears burning her eyelids before the tears began to cascade down her cheeks, forcing her mother to do the same, for there was nothing she could do to calm the child’s fear when she herself was so very frightened. The three children ran with their mother, fleeing from the screams coming from different directions inside the home and the howling of dogs outside. Colors of orange and red mirred together greeted her vision the further they traveled towards an exit, but the sound of dogs and screaming only grew louder, throbbing in Eleanor’s young ears. She was holding onto her mother’s hand, clutching tight to the cloak of one of her sibling’s that ran beside her. Her short legs were quickly growing tired of the swift movement that was being forced upon them, but she could not stop. She had to keep pace with her mother and siblings to escape the danger around them.



She felt her hand being pulled downwards as her mother dropped to the floor and quickly let go least Eleanor fall as well. It was hard to see through the flames and smoke, but her mother had stopped moving and was deatly still upon the floor. Another hand grabbed hers, dragging her along, away from her mother. The flames from the burning home illuminated the darkness of the night once the three siblings had made it out safely and she could make out an image of a man running towards them. When he was closer, she could tell that it was her father and quickly ran into his arms for comfort. He picked her up and her brothers ran forth to him, shouting, though she cannot remember what was said. Perhaps something about their mother.



Later, as she lay on the ground while servants continued to try and tame the fire with water, her father’s fur cloak wrapped around her, Eleanor asked her brothers when their mother would be coming out from the house. Neither responded. She asked her father next when he returned from speaking with harried-looking people, a glum expression on his face. For a long while he had simply stared at her, his eyes sunken and weary. He decided not to give her an answer as well and went for a walk instead, to "get some air".



Eleanor was unable to sleep that night inside the makeshift tent of cloth a good distance from the burned home. And her brothers lay awake as well, all three of them staring up at the stars. Often, Eleanor would stare at the shiny lights in the otherwise dark sky with her mother before she grew too sleepy to keep her eyes open. The two had claimed a group of stars, three little dots in a row, for themselves. They were still there, those three stars, as if all was as it should be. A solitary tear eked out from a corner of her left eye, staining her cheek with the salt water. She was too tired and had already cried too much since the night before for more tears to come.



“Eleanor,” her father’s voice had called to her, for the man was watching her closely as she lay silently. He would not lose her as well; it would be an unbearable loss. His voice, weak and quiet, not at all like the one she was used to, asked, “What’s wrong?” The world was wrong. It had taken her mother from her. Gods were wrong. They were not going to bring her mother back. Two of the three stars vanished from her vision, seemingly disappearing from the sky forever, and her voice cracked as she responded, “The stars are gone forever.”



After this unpleasant event, Arthur Norcross saw to it that his daughter was sheltered from any further danger. Over the years, the girl's memory of the event faded and she could only recall very small pieces of it - mostly that she'd lost her mother in a fire. Her father was glad for this, as he did not wish to recall that night ever again and expressly forbid the servants to speak of his wife. He could not handle any reminder of her, and would often stop himself from telling Eleanor that she reminded him of her mother. He saw to it that his daughter was educated by a Septa, but she was not treated with all the strictness that the Septa had wished to enforce. Arthur allowed his daughter to do as she pleased, for her merriment and laughter was what he thrived upon. Upon having persuaded her father, for half a year, Eleanor served as a Handmaiden to a Lady in King's Landing. Half a year was far too long for her father and serving was something that Eleanor found she did not enjoy. She was called to return home and she did so, gladly, leaving her Lady with nothing but kind words and the promise to one day see one another again. Eleanor recently has begun to suspect that she will soon be arranged to marry another noble, though her father has hinted nothing of the sort.

Her father and brother attempted to change their allegiance from House Tyrell and Mace Tyrell sent Lord Alexander Rowan to punish them. Upon his arrival, Alexander murdered Arren and then used Eleanor against her father. She is currently carrying Alexander's child.

ROLEPLAY EXAMPLES

Whilst her Septa slept through the lesson she was meant to be participating in, Eleanor slipped away from the room to find her brother Arren. He would not order her to return as her father would or berate her as Arglan would. Part of her wished that Arglen would go somewhere else, far away from their home, so that she was not constantly reminded of all the laws she had to abide by according to the Faith. It was honorable of her brother to be a Septon, but she'd always felt that the brother she knew had died and been replaced with a stranger when she glanced upon Arglen now.



Passing by the Maester, she smiled at the man, knowing just where to go in order to find her brother. The young Ser would be in the courtyard, training with the Master-at-Arms. He was going to be Lord Norcross in the future, may the Seven keep their father healthy for a very long time, and all he wanted to do was play war in the courtyard. She did fear for what might become of their house if Arren did not pay more attention to books. The Maester was constantly advocating for it, but her Lord Father did not command Arren to do so. It was both reassuring to have such a kind father and worrisome, for he was a weak-willed man.



She walked slowly up to her brother, her eyes trained upon the blade of his sword as he swung at wooden posts. "Do you not tire of this repetitive act? Surely your hands will bleed if you do not rest," she told him, concern in her tone of voice. Berating her brothers for what they found enjoyment in was never a past time of hers nor a concern.



The hits from the blade stop and it came to rest at the side of the man as he turned to face his sister. His brow was soaked with sweat and his cheeks red from the exertion of physical energy. "My hands are as tough as Valyrian steel, sister. They will never bleed," he responded. A jovial smile lightened his otherwise tense, strong features.



"Yet your mind is as soft as the hair upon your head," the girl stated, raising her eyebrows as she often did when she thought she'd said something particularly witty. It was unlike her to keep quiet regarding matters she felt should be vocalized. Perhaps her words would eventually penetrate Arren's thick skull so that he would learn how to become a proper Lord. But for today, she was content to let the man forget his duty to the house and chase her until they reached their Father's study, upon which both were advised to find themselves a more age-appropriate folly to dally in.