who: @lucerysxestermont what and where: the red keep, following news of lady nadia estermont's return. wylliam is, undoubtedly, frazzled.
the hand of the king's meeting with king jaehaerys of house targaryen, second of his name, had become something of a distant, otherworldly experience the moment a certain name was mentioned. entirely in passing, a mere report as news was broken to wylliam within the same breath as news of the great games that had been organised. other great noble hands of the king in history had seemingly been able to separate themselves from being the hand, as though they were two entirely different personalities, people.
wylliam had not been able to do that as lord paramount of the stormlands, and he had not been able to do that as hand either; though what remained yet to see, was whether that was a strength or a weakness. the sound of jaehaerys' voice became distant buzzing, and it wasn't until the man's voice suddenly sounded very stern did wylliam come to his senses. he snapped out of it, and suddenly realised he could not be here right now.
he had somehow found himself on his feet, at the door, with the king's striking amethyst eyes looking at him. wylliam himself suddenly felt incredibly cold, each vein in his body running freezing despite the sweat that had broken out on his forehead. he knew not what he mentioned, what he uttered, what words essentially came tumbling from his mouth before he turned and departed from the chambers of the king. he thought not of the fact he would see the man again at the end of the day, and speak to him about everything. have to explain why he had all but run off. and run, was what wyllian swann had done. dodging by endless amounts of courtiers, both from their realm and the others as he made his way through the winding corridors of the red keep. it had never been home, it would never be home.
he wondered if it were true. he wondered if he were going mad. no, he had not been going mad; he heard the news directly from the king's own mouth, and the king was not mad. yes he was. he bumped into someone, he didn't know who, and uttered a rushed, panicky apology before turning the corner into the apartments of house estermont. there was an increased amount of guards, all waiting by the door - he knew not what he was doing. he knew he should not be here, that this remained all too private, all too sensitive. he did not know what he was doing here, only that in that moment, he had found himself running from the king of all people. he repeated the need to see lord lucerys estermont, he repeated it again and again as though they were the only words he could say.
and when lucerys estermont did step outside the main doors of his apartments, wylliam did not ask to be let in. he merely stood here, with a face that looked stricken. had this man found out his older sister was not dead? was never dead? "is she alive?" wylliam managed to ask, feeling an all too familiar choking sensation at the back of his throat. he wished to demand the question again, to yell it. instead, he felt as though he could not speak.