#official.

----- later -----

Aomine: [yawns] Ryou’s gone, so I can finally sleep in peace. Alrighty then… [flops down in the grass] Huh? W-what? It got chilly all of a sudden…! [stands up and walks away]

--- later, after settling down and getting again TWICE MORE ----

Aomine: [drinks from a bottle] What was that about? It got so cold out of the blue… [sets down the drink bottle] It’s so nice outside, though… Wait, what? It’s gettin’ cold again! Urgh, damn…! [stands up and walks away]

then aomine finds a bball court and meets NIGOU !! the puppy!!! and starts dribbling the bball only to find that nigou barks happily when it happens and when aomine decides to leave and locate the friends who have been mercilessly pestering him to come to practise the day before a big game against seirin, he sayS???

[basketball rolls away]

Aomine: [exhales] Heh, you’ve got some skills.

Nigou: [barks]

“Your Grace-”

“Now what?” Henry muttered, resting his elbows on his desk and rubbing his temples. It hadn’t stopped since that infernal scene Richard made- interruption after interruption as rumour spread and the nobles reassessed  their options for the thousandth time since August. “It’s almost midnight. Tell whoever-”

“It is the Duke of York, your grace.” The page- what was the boy’s name? Timothy? Thomas? looked at him anxiously. Henry exhaled with irritation. He slumped back in his chair. Then he leaned forward again and began to reshuffle his papers. 

“Tell him to come,” he snapped. He’d tell his uncle to wait until morning, but truth be told, he’d been expecting this. And he’d rather get it over with. 

The page bowed, and vanished, reappearing again moments later. “The Duke of York,” he announced, and Henry nodded.

“Thank you, you can go,” he said. The boy scarpered.

Henry stretched his mouth in to a painful facsimile of a smile. “Uncle,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

“Pontefract?” York sounded tired. Sad, and tired. Henry bristled. “Of all the places, why Pontefract?”

“It’s the most secure.” Henry returned to reshuffling his papers so he didn’t have to meet York’s eyes.

“More secure than the Tower?” 

“Yes!” Henry slammed the papers down. “If he remains at the heart of London, the people will remember-”

“So you send him north to languish and be forgot.”

“Precisely!” Henry glared.

York nodded. Once. “What was Northumberland’s role in it?” he asked. 

“Who said Northumberland had a role in it?” Henry retorted. 

“Henry, I’ve known you and Richard since you were both children, I saw you grow up together. Left on your own, you’d have sent him to the Tower and you’d have gone to him, every other week, trying to persuade him to admit that you are in the right. For the good of his soul, of course.” the last was tinged with sarcasm. Henry elected to ignore it. 

“Why Northumberland?” he asked instead. York held his gaze.

“Who else?” he asked, and Henry shifted uncomfortably.

“You think I rely too much on his council.”

“I think he’s ambitious and I think he’ll grab the tail of any rising star so long as that star offers to pull him just a  little bit higher than the last.”

“Northumberland has pledged his word, he is loyal to me.”

“You pledged your word that you came only for Lancaster; forgive an old man’s eyesight, your grace, but this does not look like Lancaster to me.”  

And there it was, Henry thought. Finally. After weeks of waiting-

“I did come for Lancaster. It was him who suggested London, if you recall.”

“And you are incapable of saying no?” York enquired, then waved it away as Henry opened his mouth to respond. “It doesn’t matter, that’s not why I’m here. What’s done is done it’s done-”

“Then why are you here?” Henry asked, impatience and tiredness warring within him.

“Two things, your grace,” York said, “The first: the matter of Pontefract, and Richard’s imprisonment within it.”

“I will not reconsider-”

“And I will not ask you to.” York dipped his head. “I will ask that you do not confuse imprisonment with debasement.”

Henry’s eyes narrowed. “You would have me send him silk sheets and perfume, uncle?”

“I would have my brother’s son spared the indignity of being paraded round in his shift!” York snapped. “It was wholly unnecessary to strip him so, Harry-”

“I didn’t see you rush to lend him your cloak!” Henry snapped, and York fell abruptly silent, cheeks reddening. 

“Your Grace,” he said stiffly. “I will pay for Richard’s keep, providing he is not used roughly. A stipend to be paid to the crown for the duration of Richard’s lifetime. He will be kept warm, and well fed, and have access to books, if nothing else.”

Henry steepled his fingers, considering. What his uncle proposed would lift an expense from his purse. It could, if approached carefully, add an extra source of revenue. He suspected that was the conclusion his uncle wanted him to reach- an incentive to keep a dangerous prisoner alive rather than arrange a convenient accident. Not that he would. He was better than that. Better than him. “What’s the other thing?” he asked.

York grimaced. “I need you to arrest Edward.”

Henry gaped.

 “Say again?”

“I need you to arrest Edward.” 

Henry struggled to come up with an adequate response. He scanned his uncle’s face for signs that he was in jest- but no. He genuinely wanted...

“Why?”

“Because”, York said, “he’s a hot headed young idiot madly in love with the man you just deposed and if he’s not already neck deep in some conspiracy or other to do away with you and restore Richard to the throne, I’ll eat my boots. Of course, such a plot will undoubtedly be uncovered, because Ned is wholly useless at concealing anything, which means you’re going to arrest him sooner or later and I’d sooner it not be for high treason. Have a few guards drag him home to his mother, and I’ll let her know he’s not to write to Salisbury, Carlisle, or any other of Richard’s friends.”

“I don’t...”

“Plots,” York said, “are formed by people plotting.”

Henry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Well obviously,” he said, “but-”

“No!” York said insistently. “Listen, Harry. Plots are formed by people plotting. How do you stop them plotting their plots?”

Arrest Ned. Send him home- away from Court.

Stop him writing to any of Richard’s other likely allies.

“You prevent from being able to plot,” York said emphatically. “You isolate them from their most likely allies, stop them being able to communicate. They can’t plot...”

“...If there’s no way to plot,” Henry finished slowly.

A small smile passed York’s face. 

“Thomas!” Henry called. His page appeared at once.

“Your grace?”

“Tell the guards outside to find my lord Aumerle and place him under house arrest. He is not to see or speak with anyone. Likewise with my lord the Earl of Salisbury, and -in fact, tell young Harry Percy to come and see me, would you?”

“Yes, your grace, at once- I- that is-”

“The Duke of Aumerle under house arrest, the Earl of Salisbury under house arrest, Northumberland’s son to our presence at once.” Henry pushed back from his chair, and strode to the window, gazing out over the Thames as his page scrambled to follow his instructions.

The Duke of York closed his eyes, and prayed to God he had made the right call.