Chapter Text
In the months leading to Corypheus’ defeat, Inquisitor Trevelyan fought with fervour against the Venatori and Red Templars. At the final battle, he had taken along Dorian, Cole and Cassandra, three of his most trusted allies. Dorian because they were lovers, Cole for the young man had provided much insight to the Inquisitor, more so since he became a spirit, and Cassandra for she had been with him since the founding of the Inquisition and he knew she would see it to its end. His other allies were scattered about the Temple, each leading their own band of soldiers to fight the soldiers.
Trevelyan trusted them with his life, regardless of how they had been. Blackwall had caused quite a bit of a stir but Trevelyan saw him as the man he had always been, eager to atone.
At the final fight, he summoned the dragon ally, fought the red lyrium dragon and finally came face to face with Corypheus. His words had no power against any of his allies. Although perhaps the most surprising thing the Inquisitor experienced was Solas’ departure after his enemy’s defeat. He had not expected the elf to vanish without a trace, without saying goodbye even. The two had formed a friendship but perhaps he was wrong on that. Still he had the others in the Inquisition to tend to, and for that he was thankful.
The celebration had been grand and for a long while after that, he was entertaining emissaries from various locations, noble after noble until he insisted they just meet him all at once and then that was it. The introverted man reverted to his quiet self, preferring to spend time alone in his room. His friends were afraid he would have another meltdown but he assured them that he was all right and just needed time alone. Given that Cole wasn't screaming his thoughts and he was still engaging them daily, they left it at that.
Until Cullen walked into his room one day to ask him about the deployment of some soldiers and heard cries of pain.
The Templar rushed up the stairs towards the Inquisitor’s room and saw the man kneeling against his bed, holding his left hand. The pull of the Fade was strong in the room and the ex-templar reached forth to reinforce reality as he made his way towards the Inquisitor.
"Are you all right?”
The crackling noise Islington’s hand made faded away and the man stood up, shaking his hand.
“It'll… it'll pass,” the man said looking at his commander. “You… you wanted to see me for something?”
“Never mind that. What just happened? Is your hand causing you pain? You haven't said a thing about it,” Cullen said frowning as he folded his arms to glare at the Inquisitor.
Islington bit his lip and looked out at the Frostback mountains.
“It's nothing to worry about Cullen. More so, with Solas gone, there's nothing much that can be done about it. Only he had an inkling of what could be done to manage it and Your Trainer has no idea either.”
“My trainer? I don't have a trainer.”
“No Your Trainer, as in that rift mage who came to teach me about rift magic. We never could get her name out of her.”
“I recall her, a little out of sort.”
"Putting it mildly, yes,” Islington said with a sigh. “It's nothing and I don't wish to trouble people about it. With Corypheus dead, we should be focusing on rebuilding.”
"Is that why you've been hiding in your room?”
The commander got his answer when silence permeated the room after his question.
“Let me take a look at it.”
“Cullen there’s really no need to. It'll only cause you undue worry and it comes and goes. Most of the time it's fine.”
“Islington… let me see it.”
With great reluctance, the Inquisitor removed the gloves that he was always wearing nowadays. The blonde haired warrior’s face contorted into a frown as he saw the hand.
The damage was obvious. At the founding of the Inquisition, the Mark had been but a scar across the Inquisitor’s hand. The last time he saw it, it was months ago where it had spread across his palm, turning the skin around it black and glowing green. The cracks were tough and he wondered if his friend had any sensation of touch in it left. At this point in time, the Inquisitor’s whole hand was now blackened and pulsing green as it crept up towards his forearm. It was painful to look at.
“When did it become this bad?”
The Inquisitor shrugged. “I try not to think about it.”
“Does Dorian know?”
“Sort of… I started wearing gloves during our time together because I could see it made him feel uncomfortable although he was doing his best to hide his discomfort. Staring at it too long makes my head hurt as well. I suspect that my hand is partially present in the Fade. It would explain why it hurts to be looked at since the brain is trying to comprehend two different planes at once.”
Islington remained calm throughout. Cullen studied the man. There was a defeated air about the man at that, but the steady determination he had grown familiar with was also present.
“Why didn't you say anything?”
"To what end Cullen? None of the mages here would know anything and no one can do anything. It'll just cause people undue worry. Thedas has had enough to worry about than one man.”
There was truth in the Inquisitor’s words.
“But that one man helped kill a darkspawn from ancient legend and heads an organisation that has been doing good.”
“It's not just me who’s the Inquisition. We wouldn't have won without the others. Besides… it's already slowed as much as it can be.”
Cullen took a while to process the man’s words. “How long more do you have?”
“If I'm lucky? Probably a decade. At worst, maybe five years… I'll be all right Cullen. I've lived through far too many situations where I should have died and where others have perished. I would appreciate it if you kept this to yourself… I'm asking you of it as a friend.”
“Islington we cannot have you-”
“I don't want to have to make it an order Cullen. Please. I really don't want others to know. It's… I rather just bear this alone.”
The Inquisitor turned to head back to his desk and Cullen knew the conversation was over. He disagreed of course but he would respect his leader’s wishes.
“Take care Inquisitor,” he said as he left before he turned around, recalling what he had come for originally.
"Ah Islington there's the matter on the deployment of the soldiers…”
It carried on for several more months before Leliana and Josephine were privy to the secret the two men shared. It had happened while they were in the war room when the Anchor started acting up. Leliana was updating them on the reports Charter had given when there was a crackling sound and pain coursed through Trevelyan’s hand up to his neck. He stumbled after crying out in pain, leaning against the war table. Josephine gasped in shock. Leliana regarded him coolly but worriedly.
“Should I get Fiona?”
Cullen was the only one who remained stoic, but he wore his unhappiness on his face. “Has it gotten worse?”
“No… its all right. It’ll pass,” Islington grunted. His colleagues were silent though Cullen moved over to support the man and take him over to a couch where he sat down.
“You didn't answer my question Inquisitor.”
“I don't need to answer that question Cullen,” he said softly, the implications in his answer and tone evident to the warrior. Leliana and Josephine looked to the two men.
“Inquisitor?”
“It's nothing. My hand is just causing me some pain. It'll pass. Let's just continue.”
There was a tone in his voice which made them aware that there was no room for questions.
“Very well, but I do not like this Inquisitor,” Leliana said quietly.
“Your opinion has been heard and noted Leliana… my apologies. I...,” he said realising how cold he sounded to his advisors.
Islington sighed softly before he began, “The Anchor is acting up but it's expected. Solas taught me how to manage it, disperse the magic and I've been… managing it well… it's progressing as slow as it can but Solas did warn me that it has a strength of its own. I use it as much as it uses me… and for better or for worse, it has bonded to me. Not even Corypheus could undo that bond. It'll ache occasionally but it's nothing to worry over.”
Cullen shot the Inquisitor a look and Leliana was perceptive enough to catch it.
"Don't lie to us Islington,” she scolded, but kindly.
The Inquisitor bit his tongue and looked away. “Look… I don't know what it'll do. I estimated I might have five to ten years before something happens to me. I really rather not think or talk about it until I come to that bridge. There's nothing that can be done for it. I've checked… thoroughly,” the man said, his voice quavering a little.
That was the only hint of fear that showed through.
There was only silence that followed. Islington took a deep breath and continued, “I rather not worry anyone. We’ll just continue as we always have been. I rather it that way than people… talking to me about what's going to happen… Dorian will be leaving soon for Tevinter to settle his affairs and of all the people, I rather he left with some peace of mind on his lover’s state.”
The women gave somber nods towards their leader and Islington smiled. “Come now, it's not as if it's my funeral or something yet.”
That eased the tension in the room and they resumed their work, chatting a little more openly about things. Cullen further broke the tension.
“If you squint, Lake Calenhad is shaped like a bunny…”
Josephine sighed at her colleagues, “Perhaps we should take a…”
Her saying was interrupted by Leliana, “Oh, I think I see it!”
Islington chuckled and work got sidetracked for a while as they searched to see if they could find any other animals if they squinted.