Many thanks to my beta, Olndina, for her help with this. And a thousand, thousand thank you's to all my readers. It's been a year since I started this fic, and I truly am grateful to everyone who has added it to their alerts and favorites, and to all of you who have left reviews. It totally makes my day to know people are enjoying reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

Nathaniel shifted from foot to foot, wishing he were anywhere but here. Gideon had insisted that the Grey Wardens make their presence known as often as possible, which meant they all had to be in attendance when the new arl held court. There were a few different reasons for why he didn't want to be here, the main one being that it was still difficult to watch someone who wasn't a Howe sitting on the throne that had been occupied by his ancestors for generations. He had made peace with Gideon—could even call him a friend—but the sting was still there.

Being forced to stand in one place for hours in full leather armor wasn't helping either. His training as a rogue had taught him patience, but he'd still much preferred being out hunting or fighting rather than standing idle.

He cast his glance around the room, taking in the various people who had come to request assistance from the arl. There were decisions to be made regarding Amaranthine and the surrounding countryside, as well as disputes to be settled. Nathaniel had attended court several times when he was younger and his father had insisted on his presence, therefore he knew from experience that the disputes could run anywhere from the very mundane issue of which farmer owned a certain sheep, all the way to preventing small-scale wars waged between arguing banns. As he remembered, his father was never very good at the latter. Of course, it was very likely that he just enjoyed the infighting.

He wondered idly how many of the people present were still loyal to his father, and how many were actually willing to support Gideon. Nathaniel felt sure he was right when he told Anders that Gideon would need to be careful—the ones who had prospered under Rendon Howe's rule would be stubborn to change at best, and hell-bent on revolution at worst. If he were Gideon, he would handle these potential enemies with kid gloves, and do his best not to incite their anger. He was not Gideon, however, and the commander was not exactly diplomatic, to put it lightly. Gideon didn't give a damn what people thought of him, or even if people supported him; he was going to do things the way he wanted, and that was that. He was a good man, and Nathaniel believed Gideon would do his best to help those in need, but he had little patience for discontented nobles.

The first few cases were, as Nathaniel had predicted, relatively benign: a dispute over a small plot of land, and yes, an argument over the ownership of a cow that belonged to one farmer but had been grazing on the land of his neighbor. The next one, however, had Nathaniel coming to attention. The man was named Alec, a peasant whose family had suffered greatly due to the Blight. It was a common tale, unfortunately. A lot of land throughout Ferelden had been destroyed by the large swarms of darkspawn that had invaded. Not only had many people died, but crops had been lost, livestock killed, homes destroyed . . . lives changed forever.

Alec had been caught stealing a few bushels of grain that had been bound for the garrison in Amaranthine; in other words, he had stolen from the Crown, a serious crime. "Please, my Lord," Alec stood before Gideon, begging. "All of my sheep were slaughtered by the darkspawn, my family was starving." From Nathaniel's position behind the throne, he could tell that the man was close to tears. "I could not bear to see my children die because I had no food to give them. I beg you to have mercy on me."

Seneschal Varel leaned in close to Gideon. "It's a wretched affair, Commander; stealing from the Crown is punishable by death. If he'd stolen from anyone else, he'd have escaped with a mere flogging." Nathaniel's expression darkened at Varel's words, and he wondered had the seneschal ever been at the receiving end of a flogging if he would still be so flippant about it.

Gideon studied the sheepherder intently. "I've no intention of letting someone hang for mere theft, no matter what the circumstances." He paused for a moment, thinking, and Nathaniel could feel his stomach churning. If Gideon was even considering the idea of—

"Commander, may I have a word with you?" Nathaniel asked urgently.

Gideon turned to look at him, frowning. "I'm kind of busy here."

"Please, my lord, it cannot wait." He made sure to over-emphasize the title, even if it was bitter in Nathaniel's mouth, and he knew Gideon would get his meaning: this was a matter to be discussed with the arl, not with a friend or even a commander. Gideon nodded before rising from the throne and following Nathaniel to a more secluded area of the room; both men were aware that all eyes were following them.

"Alright, what's this about?"

Nathaniel swallowed, his eyes darting to the sheepherder. He decided to get right to the point. "Are you going to have him flogged?"

Gideon actually looked taken aback by the question. "It is the standard punishment for theft . . ."

Nathaniel frowned. "That's not exactly an answer."

The commander folded his arms. "Why are you asking me about this? Do you want me to just let him go free? I didn't even do that for you, Nathaniel."

Nathaniel grimaced at the reminder, both of his crime and of his "punishment" of being conscripted into the Wardens. He did agree with Gideon, more or less—Alec committed a crime, and to let him just go free could set a bad precedent. But exceptions could—and should—in his mind, be made. "He was stealing to provide for his starving family, for Andraste's sake. It isn't as if he were a smuggler looking to turn an easy profit. And the grain was returned; no one was actually hurt by his actions." The look he gave Gideon was almost one of pleading. "I'm grateful that you agree he shouldn't die for his crime, but there has to be some other way to make him pay besides a flogging."

Gideon gave him a long, calculating look. "This has to do with your father, doesn't it?"

Nathaniel looked away, saying nothing. He waited tensely for Gideon's decision.

"Alright," he finally said. "But you owe me an explanation once this is over."

Nathaniel nodded. "Yes, Commander."

Gideon nodded in satisfaction before returning to the proceedings, acting as if there'd never been an interruption. He addressed Alec. "You'll join the army. That should be penance enough for your crimes, and you'll earn a stipend to support your family."

Alec looked as if he was in shock. "Th-thank you, my lord," he stammered. "I will serve you faithfully. I will give my life for you if it is called for." To Nathaniel's surprise, the man actually knelt down, his head inclined lowly. "Thank you, ser, thank you. You are a kind man, indeed. I shall tell all of how kind and great you are." He was still praising and thanking Gideon as he was brought to his feet and led out of the room by one of the footmen.

Gideon chuckled lowly. "That might have been worth it for the ego boost alone." Nathaniel hid a smile; he knew that Gideon Cousland was probably the last person in Thedas who'd actively seek a boost to his ego.

Out of the corner of his eye, Nathaniel saw Anders sidling over to him from where he'd been standing near the far wall next to Sigrun. "What's going on?" Anders whispered.

Nathaniel frowned at him, making a shushing noise, which caused Anders to frown a little. "Oh, so you're allowed to talk, but I'm not?" Nathaniel cast him a stern look, but kept quiet. Anders huffed and moved back to his standing place, grumbling to himself.

He turned his attention to the next case, and grimaced with distaste when he heard the woman's name: Lady Liza Packton. She'd been one of his father's most outspoken proponents, best friends with Bann Esmerelle. He knew before she even opened her mouth that she was there to lodge some form of complaint relating to the fact that Rendon was no longer ruling Amaranthine.

Sure enough, she started in on a long complaint about how Rendon had promised her the profits of one of the bridges in the countryside. It was a common enough practice to charge tolls to travelers wishing to cross bridges, but usually those profits went to the owners of the land that the bridge was on. It didn't surprise him one bit when Ser Darren—a nobleman whom, Nathaniel remembered, his father not agreeing with—stepped forward, stating that both the bridge and the land belonged to him, and that the former arl had revoked all of it because Darren had opposed his rule. He felt that, by rights, the land should be returned to him.

Varel, of course, was counseling caution, stating that even though Darren was a much-needed ally, Gideon needed to be fair-minded in his treatment of the nobles. Gideon, with equal predictability, pronounced that the land and the bridge both belonged to Darren. Lady Liza stormed off, proclaiming loudly that she would be telling Bann Esmerelle all about this.

Nathaniel couldn't quite suppress a snort of derision; it was just like Liza to go crying to her more powerful friends. He had a feeling that Esmerelle was going to wind up causing problems for Gideon. The oath of fealty she'd sworn to him was more or less meaningless; she had been his father's lover, and it was obvious (to Nathaniel, at least) that she would resent the fact that the "Cousland boy" was sitting in Rendon's place. She had already expressed to Nathaniel her disgust that he was, in her eyes, allowing it to happen. If there really were going to be a revolt by the nobles as he expected there to be, he'd put good money on her being involved in it somehow. She'd already tried to recruit his alliance during the fealty ceremony—something he hadn't told anyone about. As far as he was concerned, it wasn't important; there was no way he'd ever side with her. She may not have remembered much about him as a child, but he certainly remembered her. She was a nasty, vicious woman who practically worshiped his father. He knew less about Liza, but if she truly were going to Esmerelle with her complaints, then she couldn't be much better.

His worries were pushed to the back of his mind by Varel's voice carrying across the hall. "Bring in Ser Temmerly, the Ox." A large man clad in heavy plate armor clanked into the room and up the aisle to the throne, flanked by several guards. The man's bulky size clearly showed why he had the nickname "the Ox."

Garevel stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Ser Temmerly has been charged with a heinous crime: the murder of Ser Tamra. He and his men ambushed her in the dark of night and cut her down before she could even defend herself."

Temmerly sneered at the captain. "You go too far, Captain. I am of noble blood; you have no right to make such accusations towards me."

"You were spotted fleeing from the scene of the crime!" Garavel proclaimed hotly. "The blood on the ground was still wet. How could you possibly say you are innocent?"

Temmerly let out a mocking laugh. "The roads are filled with bandits, not to mention darkspawn. Anything could have killed her." His eyes turned to Gideon, a smirk on his face. "Such a shame, too: I heard she was in a great hurry to get home and collect some . . . documents for you."

Nathaniel could hear the low growl that rumbled from Gideon, but Garevel cut in before the arl could say anything. "You mock the court with your protestations. Nobleman or not, you are a murderer."

"Enough," Gideon said loudly, his harsh voice enough to catch the arguing men's attentions. "Do you have any actual evidence, Captain?"

Garevel seemed to deflate a little. "No, Commander. My soldiers saw him and his men near Ser Tamra's body, but . . . they didn't actually see the crime committed." The words were clearly said reluctantly.

Gideon sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "Which, unfortunately, isn't enough to condemn him." The smirk was still clear on Temmerly's face as Gideon looked at him. "Clearly I'm going to have to launch an investigation . . . a very, very, long one. We will, of course, have to imprison you while we're doing so . . . just in case."

Ser Temmerly's eyes bulged as his face turned beet red. "What? You can't do that!" He struggled as the two guards on either side of him grasped his arms.

"Oh, I most certainly can," Gideon said, clearly amused. Temmerly continued bucking against his guards, but with their combined efforts, they finally managed to haul him out of the room. Oghren followed after, bellowing what may or may not have been helpful orders to the guards—or possibly a warning to watch out for schleets.

"That's it for today, Commander," Varel said. He waited for Gideon's nod of assent before announcing the end of the session.

When the room cleared of spectators and guardsmen, Gideon let out an audible sigh of relief. "Tell me I don't have to do that very often," he plead to the Seneschal.

"Once a month I'm afraid," Varel answered, somewhat apologetically. "Hopefully, the next one will be easier."

Gideon smiled wryly. "I doubt it. I have a feeling I'll have a lot more messes to clean up, especially among the nobles."

Messes made by my father, Nathaniel thought to himself as his brows furrowed. He wondered if the dungeons were large enough to hold all of the corrupt noblemen who would doubtlessly suffer under Gideon's rule, as one by one, their tried and true manipulations failed to work on the new arl. Rendon could be appeased with basic arse-kissing, and valued those who were devious. Those who shared his beliefs that the peasants and city dwellers should be stamped down rather than appeased were well served by Arl Howe. Arl Cousland, Nathaniel felt sure, would have no problem letting them all rot in the dungeons.

At least they had a few allies like Ser Darren, but Gideon's abrasive treatment of those who were still loyal to Nathaniel's father could cause problems. Many of the banns wouldn't truly be swayed to support Gideon until the man showed them proof that they could prosper under his rule.

Gideon made a noise of irritation. "It just irks me that I have to play peacekeeper and babysitter to a bunch of spoiled nobles. It isn't going to matter who gets the profits off of a bridge if there's no one left alive to use it. We should be spending our time dealing with these darkspawn." He tapped his fingers on the throne. "And I want to know more about those creatures that disciple mentioned: the Mother and the Architect. They've got to be darkspawn, leaders maybe." Gideon was clearly more comfortable discussing fighting darkspawn than bickering nobles.

"You said in Kal'Hirol that it seemed like there were two different factions of darkspawn warring with each other," Nathaniel commented. "It sounds like maybe those two creatures are their rallying points."

"That sounds about right," Gideon agreed, frowning, "which doesn't make any sense. Their leaders are supposed to be the archdemons, the Old Gods; why would there be any need for a hierarchy among them? And what kinds of orders do the Mother and the Architect need to give that the archdemons couldn't give themselves through that mind control they have?" He made a noise of irritation. "None of this makes any sense, and it's giving me one hell of a headache."

Anders and Sigrun, who had been chatting quietly with each other ever since the court had been cleared, now approached the group at the throne. "Anders wants to know what you and Gideon were talking about earlier," Sigrun announced.

Anders scowled and poked her hard. "You weren't supposed to say it like that!"

"How was I supposed to say it?"

Anders rolled his eyes. "You were supposed to just ease into it. Aren't rogues supposed to be subtle?"

Sigrun shrugged. "I don't do subtle."

"Obviously not," Anders huffed. "Maybe you should work on that rather than spending all your time trying to get me to set bushes on fire."

"Are you two done?" Gideon asked, clearly amused.

Anders turned to him. "What Sigrun was trying to say is that we - " Sigrun cleared her throat theatrically, "alright, I—" Anders shot her a pointed look, "was a bit concerned . . . oh, sod it. What were you two talking about earlier?"

"Nathaniel was offering me a bit of advice," Gideon said mildly, glancing at Nathaniel casually. "Useful advice, actually . . . and welcome, seeing as how I've never held court before." He smiled ruefully. "I was never expected to attend when my father held court; Fergus was the heir, and I was more than happy about that." He stood up from the throne, stretching. "I wanted to be a warrior, not a ruler. Kind of ironic."

Anders didn't seem pacified by the answer. "Yeah, but what was that that guy Temmerly even talking about? He said that Ser Tamra was on her way to get some documents for you?"

Gideon frowned. "I'm pretty sure he was talking about the conspiracy against me, the one you overheard some nobles talking about at the fealty ceremony. Tamra approached me later and confirmed your theory, and she said she had proof of it. She was going to go collect it and bring it back."

"Why didn't she just bring it to the ceremony with her?" Anders asked. "It would have been less of a hassle."

Nathaniel answered for Gideon. "She probably wasn't sure how the commander would react to the news. And to openly stand against some of the most powerful banns in Amaranthine would have been extremely dangerous."

"Hence her murder," Gideon stated grimly. "And that son of a bitch thought he was going to get away with it just because he has blue blood." The look of disgust on his face was unmistakable.

"So what'll you do about it now?" Sigrun asked curiously.

Gideon frowned. "Not much I can do, except wait and see. Sooner or later they're going to attack; I just have to make sure I'm ready for it."

"You have to make sure that we're ready for it," Nathaniel clarified. "We're all behind you on this."

Sigrun and Anders nodded their agreement. "We've got your back, Commander," Sigrun said with uncharacteristic seriousness.

Gideon turned to Anders and Sigrun. "Seeing as how court's over, you're free to spend the rest of the day as you like." Both Wardens nodded their head at Gideon's dismissal and left the room, though Anders cast several glances back towards the two noblemen.

Nathaniel stayed where he was, knowing that Gideon wasn't going to let him off so easily. Sure enough, as soon as the room was cleared, he beckoned Nathaniel to follow him out of the throne room and into his study across the hall. Once the door was shut, Gideon circumvented the large desk that he usually sat at, and headed for a small sitting area on the other side of the room. Nathaniel sat down on one of the chairs situated across from the couch that Gideon had settled himself onto.

"So," Gideon began, "I'd like to know why exactly you disrupted a hearing to tell me what kind of sentence I should dole out."

Nathaniel flushed a little at the subtle reprimand. "I'm sorry for that. I know it wasn't my place. But neither option the seneschal gave you was right."

Gideon looked at him speculatively. "And you thought me incapable of figuring that out myself?"

"No!" Nathaniel protested. "I didn't mean it like that. It was just that . . ." He sighed, running a hand absently through his hair. He was starting to wish he hadn't spoken up at all. If he hadn't, he'd be in his own chambers right now, rather than having to explain himself to Gideon.

"It just feels strange being here," Nathaniel says vaguely.

"Strange being back in the Keep?" Gideon asked. "Or strange standing behind the throne instead of sitting on it?"

Nathaniel looked away, chagrined. "I'm sorry," he said again. "But as you said, I have more experience in the matters of court than you do."

Gideon shook his head. "It's not about that, and you know it. I'm well aware of the fact that you were the one destined to be Arl of Amaranthine. But you're not—I am. And you're going to have to accept that."

Nathaniel nodded. "Yes, ser." He glanced back at Gideon. "I saw a lot of things when my father was on that throne, and I suppose today just brought back unsavory memories."

"Let me guess: this is where you tell me your father was not the paragon of virtue you've made him out to be, and that he was actually just as much of a bastard to you growing up as he was to everyone else during the Blight."

Nathaniel scowled, a sharp retort on the tip of his tongue. He kept it to himself, though, when he realized that Gideon was right. "That's pretty much what it boils down to, yes. He had a tendency to be very strong-handed, and he took every opportunity he could to dole out the punishments himself, or at least watch."

Gideon raised an eyebrow. "I know you don't think I'd do that . . ."

"No," Nathaniel reassured him. "Like I said, it just brought back memories." He shrugged. "I honestly don't know why I spoke up. I should have better control over myself than that."

Gideon actually smiled at him. "You beat yourself up too much, Nathaniel. Everyone's allowed to let their emotions to get the better of themselves sometimes." His expression turned stern. "So long as it's only sometimes, you'll be fine." He leaned forward. "You are not your father, Nathaniel. Neither am I. I hope that in the future you'll learn to trust me to make sound decisions."

He stood up smoothly. "I appreciate your help, though. It'll be good to have someone to advise me who won't be as sycophantic as Varel tends to be."

Nathaniel stood up as well, smirking. "That's something you can be sure will never happen. Thank you, Commander, for listening to me."

"My door's always open, Nathaniel."

Nathaniel nodded at the dismissal and walked towards the door.

"Oh, and Nathaniel . . ." Gideon called to him, making him pause. "If you ever call me 'my lord' again, I'm kicking your arse."

A ghost of a smile flitted across Nathaniel's face. "Yes, Commander."

He had a feeling that Anders would seek him out later to find out what was going on, but for now his spirits felt lighter; if someone besides a Howe was going to be occupying the throne, he was actually glad that it was Gideon.