A titled house, but the money dried up ages ago.
No, but imagine a Trevelyan who lives in a castle where they use every available pot, bowl, and cup to catch the water from the leaky roof when it rains.
Imagine the Trevelyan siblings piled together like puppies in a bed because the draft is wicked in the wintertime and it’s not economical to light fires in every bedroom.
Imagine a pre-conclave Trevelyan feeding the pigs or herding the sheep (Maker, because if there’s one thing the Free Marches have in abundance, it’s sheep!)
Imagine Trevelyan in an old, dirt-stained set of clothing, digging for vegetables or pulling weeds in the kitchen garden.
Imagine Trevelyan being taught to read by their brothers and sisters - because there’s no money for tutors anymore - from tattered and threadbare books whose spines are broken and the words have faded to near illegibility from the numerous grubby little fingers that have run over the pages.
Imagine a Trevelyan in the Skyhold kitchen, peeling mountains of potatoes and carrots, happily chatting with the cooks because it feels more like home than sitting in the formal dining rooms.
Imagine Trevelyan in hand-me-down clothes, not just from their siblings, but from their cousins as well. Clothes that have been taken in, and taken out, and patched so many times that the original color and size is unknown to just about everyone.
Imagine the inquisitor mending threadbare clothes and socks because they hate to waste anything, especially perfectly good fabric, much to the dismay of the more fashion conscious among their companions.