Chapter 1: The Wickes

Bailin Wicke let go of the string with a sharp exhale, the arrow wobbled in the air and threatened to go off course but in the end it hit the target. His teacher tutted in disgust before looking up at him.

“M’lord you won’t qualify for Lord Stark’s archery tournament let alone win it at this rate”

Bailin shook his head at the old weapons master, “It doesn’t matter all too much Master Hopper, the tournament will still be there next year, all that matters is that I have seen significant improvement, remember two moons ago I couldn't even hit the target.”

Master Hopper looked mournfully at Bailin for a moment, “you were one of the best m’lord, before the accident, still you are right, we have done much to regain your skill, I’d say you’ll be back to competent by next year, that’s it for this evening however, go, wash up for dinner.”

Master Hopper took the bow from Bailin and ushered him into the keep.

Bailin thought about all that happened since the accident as all had dubbed it, only Bailin new much of anything about it. Truth was, Bailin, the real Bailin anyway, died that night and Mark Watford, a maths student took his place. At first Mark, now Bailin, thought himself mad and had taken to speaking very little, the incident had sparked panic in his parents who thought that he had gone soft in the head but Bailin put those thoughts to rest when he finally accepted his fate.

Apparently the original Bailin had been somewhat of a prodigy at archery so Mark had to feign memory loss to escape suspicions of possession.

Bailin’s thoughts meandered as he finished washing up for dinner, the Wicke’s were a minor noble house located just south of Sea Dragon Point, they where vassals to House Glover whom were their main point of income as they paid the Wickes some considerable amount of money to keep a series of lighthouses that hugged the west coast running.

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They were having dinner outside that evening as the weather allowed it, Bailin’s dad, Ryther Wicke was a short but really muscular Northman. He was entertaining several of his more accomplished light-keepers while his wife, Bertha Wicke nee Frey was busying herself with Bailin’s youngest sibling, a babe of some eight moons.

Bailin sat next to his sister Gina, who was a ridiculously short brunette with sharp features. She had a slight frown on her face.

“Good evening Gina.” Said Bailin

“Bahl” Gin replied, using Bailin’s nickname.

“Whats with the frown?” Bailin asked as he arranged his cutlery.

“Father still can’t find a suitor for me.”

“Oh, still? When did he begin looking?”

Gina looked at him strangely before a look of realisation popped up on her face.

“He began looking before the accident Bahl, everyone’s either too old or too young apparently.”

Bailin stared at Gina for a moment before distracting himself with loading up his plate with food, he liked Gina in a not so brotherly way, so hearing that his new dad was looking for a husband for her ran an odd feeling through his gut.

Still he did everything to throw off the feeling, nothing could come off of the infatuation, and while it was alright for him to feel such a way seeing as Gina wasn’t actually his sister, she wouldn’t know that.

“Well, there’s little I can do to help in that regard.” Bailin said just to keep the talk going, he liked the sound of her voice.

“Hmmm” Gina replied with a strange look on her face before she spoke once more. “How does your archery practice go, will you be in the Stark tourney again this year?”

Bailin sighed wistfully at the question, “Master Hopper seems to think otherwise, as it is I agree with him, I can barely hit the target, I should be able to get in next year though.”

Their mother spoke up then, evidently having overheard them, “Bahl, you should still enter, you never know you could get your memories back any day now.”

“Mother it’s a long journey to Winterfell, I don’t think it’s wise to take it if I don't even have the skills to qualify.”

His mother shot him a nasty glare at that, “nonsense, you've won it in the past you’ll win it again, you know what, “she said with a triumphant look, “I’ve decided, you are leaving for Winterfell to enter the tourney.”

“But…”

“No buts young man, we have to do something to get you out of your funk.”

Bailin hung his head not bothering to argue anymore, he’d simply beg off from entering when they got to Winterfell if he had to, he was liable to embarrass himself otherwise.

The rest of the dinner remained quiet for Bailin, who simply listened to his family members and their friends have a chat about mundane matters.

Gina was the first to leave and Bailin retired for the night not much later. Thoughts of the coming journey to Winterfell and Gina swirled in his mind before sleep took him for the night.