What he left behind

"I don't want to risk losing you to a well" Dorian's voice trembled ever so lightly. Eyes filled with vulnerability, no doubt he had a thousand scenarios playing in his beautiful mind. Despite the fear building up in his gut, he watched calmly as his beloved smiled at him gently and took a few determined steps towards the Well of Sorrows. He observed as the smile disappeared from his face and the facade called the Inquisitor emerge from within. Now, with the back straightened, face hardened and brows frowning, Trevelyan dunked his long fingers into the water as if testing its warmth. Dorian saw him take a deep breath, steeling himself for what is to come. Without delay, Trevelyan gathered some water within his palm, drinking it in one gulp.

The air around them shifted, the water darkened and Trevelyan staggered where he stood. As his face started glowing with what Dorian assumed were old Elven inscriptions, the young Inquisitor within the pool began to panic. He held his head and Dorian's own sense of dread finally caught up to him. He reached for him but the magical glow grow more intense with each passing second. He could hear the warnings from Solas and Morrigan. Both equally terrified but they did not fear the outcome as Dorian did. His treacherous mind conjured up images of Trevelyan laying on the ground, dead; The Elven inscriptions still adorning his face as an eternal warning.

He gulped down the fear and his hand flew to his staff when a dark grey mist covered the well. He could still make out Trevelyan and Dorian almost wished he could not. Eyes darting from one side to the next, Trevelyan looked lost and in pain. The calming blue glow turned into a searing crimson and almost immediately, the little pessimist voice at the back of his head told Dorian that something was wrong. His heart was torn apart with the ear tearing scream Trevelyan gave out as he gripped his short hair with an unforgiving grasp and fell down to his knees.

Dorian did everything, short of blowing the place up, to reach Trevelyan but the mist was as strong as he expected from the ancient elven magic to be. It did not let up, not even when Solas yelled that it was not supposed to be that way and him and Morrigan joined in to help dispel the wells magic. Even Cassandra, who has been petrified from the scene had regained her senses and called upon her Templar training to purify the well.

The mist only got thicker and took a twisted turn as the glow became more and more like a hot smoke; Burning whomever touched its edges. Dorian couldn't even imagine what being amidst that smoke would do to him. He called upon the last reserves of his magic to assist them and was almost hopeful for a second when he saw a ting of green glowing in the middle of the well. He taught to himself that yes, they could do this. They could fix this. With tears in his eyes and final drops of magic at his fingers he called out to his beloved one.

"Festis bei umo canavarum! If you don't come through this, I swear I'll kill you!"

...

"If you don't come through this, I swear I'll kill you!" was the last comprehensive thing Inquisitor Trevelyan has heard before a searing pain and an unforgiving darkness dulled all his senses. He didn't remember any other time when he had been so grateful to have lost consciousness. After that nightmarish pain threatening to bleed his brains out, it honestly had been a blessing.

As he continued to lay down on the hard ground, Trevelyan's senses began to return one by one. First he felt the cold and wet soil beneath his back. His fingers on his right hand was grasping his staff with the metal casing and the icy cold weather made it impossible for him to relax his fingers. Then his hearing slowly returned. The undeniable sound of a rift crackling and closing was an odd comfort to him. In a few seconds loud voices made it through to him. He couldn't make out the words but hearing familiar voices eased his tension away. He was among friends.

He wondered why they didn't approach him. Why he was still hearing them from far away. He was a laid back type of guy, someone people got to trust once they learned to get pass the mage part. He had been slightly angry at the beginning, snapping at everyone, tongue dripping with poison, whenever someone dared to call him the Herald of Andraste but he had made up for that. Once he took the responsibility as the Inquisitor, he mellowed down. Even though he was a circle mage with an infinite hate for the Maker and his judgemental Chantry, he had learned to accept that faith came in all shapes and forms, and that people found peace and serenity in a time of war and chaos. So he stilled his tongue for most of time and even told Josephine to keep spreading the Andraste tale after their journey to the Fade. The shock on her face had been worth it.

So why was he alone and shaking on the ground? Did they think he had reverted back to his snappy, sod-Andraste-and-her-Chantry phase now that he had ancient Elven magic in him? The answer to his worry came soon enough. When he cracked open his eyes and his sight adjusted to the sun, he was greeted by a group of inquisition soldiers circling around him with their weapons drawn and fear in their eyes. Perhaps they were spooked because of the stunt he just pulled? He didn't really know and didn't really care. All he wanted was for his blighted headache to go away. After that he would grab Dorian to enjoy a hot bath together and warm his freezing blood.

Trevelyan groaned and eyed his soldiers warily but despite his attempt to ease them he failed to even lift his head to greet them. He also noticed that his throat was dry. How joyous that he could still feel the freezing wind blowing while he couldn't even make out a sound of protest. He lifted his marked hand to his face; that he could have accomplish if not for the sudden hit from a shield throwing it back down on the ground and forcing to keep it there.

Out of reflex he lifted his staff to counter the soldier but his right arm was treated the same way as his left and with both his hands out of commission and his magic drained away long before that, Trevelyan realized that he was in deep shit. Either he had done something or something big enough had happened to the Well of Sorrows that he suddenly found himself in an entirely different geographical location with his soldiers turned on him.

He heard a tough and lovely voice ordering the soldiers "Bind him but be wary of the mark. We will take him back to Skyhold" Cassandra's strong posture behind one of the soldiers was as undeniable as the first day he met her.

With a small smile on his lips he managed to hoarse out her name "Cassandra..." That got her attention "We should stop meeting like this."

"How do you know my name? Who are you? Where did you get that mark?" The loudly yelled series of questions did nothing to relieve the throb of pain in his head and their meanings were enough to have him abruptly lift his upper body to look into her eyes and demand answers. However the sudden movement was met with pushing Cassandra into her Seeker mode and striking her sword's pommel onto his forehead without a moment's hesitation.

When the darkness claimed Trevelyan this time around, he was less enthusiastic about succumbing to unconsciousness.

"It's remarkable. It is exactly the same mark as the one Inquisitor Lavellan has. Even the location and the length of it is identical. The only difference is that his mark's glow is somehow stronger than Lavellan's mark; Brighter and has more strength to it." The unmistakable awe in Solas' description of his mark, wakened Trevelyan form a peaceful slumber.

"Solas? What happened?" he asked but from the way everyone stilled around him he could tell that something morbid had come to pass.

"How are you feeling, my friend?" the elven mage asked and Trevelyan opened his eyes to a dark, grimy dungeon cell with Solas sitting by his bed side with an extremely angry Cassandra and gob smacked Cullen behind him. To think the cold ground had been more comfortable than the bed he was currently occupying was saying a lot about where he currently was. Hands bound in that dreadfully giant lock and suddenly feeling very nervous, Trevelyan coughed until he trusted his throat to form proper sentences. Sensing his discomfort Solas put a glass of water to his lips which he accepted readily.

"Like a dozen Druffalos ran over me" he answered. "What happened to me?" Cassandra and Cullen shared a nervous glance but it was, as always, Solas who answered him truthfully.

"You fell through a rift. The said rift closed behind you without any interactions on our part which was quite fascinating." Trevelyan raised an eyebrow to that. Rifts closing on their own was not exactly a daily occurrence.

"I fell through a rift, again?" he repeated with disbelief evident in his tone.

"What do you mean again? Have you done this before?" asked Cassandra "Are you the one responsible for opening these rifts all around Thedas? Answer me!" Cullen stepped in between them before she can grab Trevelyan and he was grateful for it.

"Let him answer. He looks as confused as it is already"

"I am very confused" Trevelyan agreed. "What do you mean again, Cassandra? You were there when I first came through the Fade!"

"I was? I don't even know who you are! Explain yourself"

"If everyone please calm down" intercepted Solas. "Let us start with introduction, because clearly there is more to this situation that what meets the eye. I am Solas, as you already seem to know"

"Yes, of course I know. And these are Cassandra and Cullen. The question is why do you not recognise me?"

"Should we?" the elf asked with a calmness that pushed all of his wrong buttons. Trevelyan took a deep breath to calm himself, just like Dorian had taught him. He wondered if he had been disfigured beyond recognition that his advisors and friends couldn't tell who he was. He feared for a second that maybe he would also face rejection from Dorian because of this but he scrapped the fear. He knew that they loved each other far too dearly.

"I am Tsion Trevelyan. Third born of the House Trevelyan and a Rift Mage, originally from Ostwick Circle. Also as you all thrive to call me, the Herald of Andraste and the Inquisitor of this damned Inquisition. Remember now?" He was growling by the end of his sentence but well...

"Stop with your nonsense! This Inquisition has only one leader and that is Inquisitor Levallan. Tell us the truth now!" Trevelyan's eyes narrowed at that. What the hell had happened at the Well of Sorrows? When he asked his question, he was faced with even more perplexed faces. As the voice of reason, he faced Solas for an explanation. Even the elf had a hard time understanding the situation which promptly scared the shit out of Trevelyan.

"It is the truth! Look, the mark! The one I got from that asshole, Corypheus' orb. The one I close the rifts with, with your insistence!"

"Solas, what is going on?" was Cullen's input to the argument and Trevelyan had the audacity to not to roll his eyes at his Commander.

"You mentioned a Well of Sorrows?"

"Yes, the one deep within Mythal's temple, guarded by the sentinel, Abelas..."

"You have been to her temple? Is this where you acquired the mark?"

"What? No! Look, we are running in circles here. Let me tell what happened, as far as I remember and we can discuss the rest later"

"Alright, but be quick" demanded Cassandra and Trevelyan knew he was on a time limit. So instead of the very beginning, he started with how as the Inquisitor they had been chasing Samson and that led to the temple where they met Abelas and the Sentinels. Then they had discovered the Well of Sorrows and the Eluvian and Trevelyan had drank from the well before Corypheus could reach them. He mentioned feeling an agonizing pain and seeing the crimson glows around him before passing out and waking in wherever they had found him.

"I fear a magic beyond our comprehension is at play" Solas said after a while "You had been a fool to drink from such a well with Old Elven magic"

"I can see that now." bit back Trevelyan "But it was either me or Morrigan and she wasn't the most trustworthy of the lot."

"I see"

"You do?"

"Not as clearly as I want to but I do have a few ideas. Commander Cullen, Seeker Penthagast, I have a suggestion I would like to propose. We should discuss it in the War room along with Inquisitor Lavellan. In the mean time you should rest."

"Not that I have much of a choice." Trevelyan muttered but as the three of them were stepping outside the cell he called out to them with a sudden thought "How is he? You two of you were with me when we had gone to the well so I know you are ok. How about-"

"Whom are you speaking of?" Trevelyan did a double take on that but really he shouldn't have been surprised to hear it.

"Dorian" he murmured.

"You know Dorian too?" asked Cullen with a serious and dangerous growl. Trevelyan knew they were friends but seeing Cullen this protective along with the whole charade was getting on his nerves.

"Yes, obviously. Especially considering that he is my-" Somehow he decided against finishing that sentence, fearing that he might put Dorian in a tight spot with the advisors.

"He is fine" snapped Cassandra and moved towards the stairs.

"Do not worry friend." reassured Solas "What you fear has yet to come to pass. The event which put you in this position hasn't occurred in this time so he is not in danger"

"Yes, of course " Trevelyan answered slumping back. He heard Cullen mutter something involving time magic to Solas as they followed in Cassandra's steps. He was left with an all too familiar loneliness and the stench of rot.

Hello and thanks for reading the first chapter! This story has also been posted on AO3 under the same title and penname. A dear friend of mine has requested that I post it here as well so here it is (P.S. I readjusted the chapters for better reading quality).

I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or any of its characters.