A/N: Hello everybody! So, I have been reading the Dragon Age novels over the last week, and it made me really want to write Maric's story in my TOA universe. So, here is a series of shorts dealing with Maric and Kierrai's mother, Colette. It basically just covers the major portions of their relationship, and hopefully it adds even more depth to my TOA universe. Thanks again for reading! You guys are the best!

Maric looked at Rowan, wondering if things would ever go back to the way they used to be between them. Seeing her glance at Loghain, he realized that they wouldn't. It had been years since Katriel had died, and ever since then Rowan had been distant and professional, not at all like the warm, charming young woman he had grown up with. He shook his head. Theirs would be a marriage of duty rather than one of love. He wished he could persuade her to go to Loghain as she wanted, but another part of him knew that he needed her. He watched her staring at his old friend, and his heart ached. He wished he could have love again. He wished it for them. But duty stood in the way, as always.

They rode to a massive encampment not far from Denerim. The rebel army was strong, and it was said that the false king Meghren was holed up within the city, desperate to survive. Maric smiled slightly. This would be the year that the rebellion ended, and the Orlesians would be sent out once and for all.

"When we arrive, we will be speaking with General Colette Wiscotte. It is said that she has a strong plan of attack. Many of our people have advised us to listen to her." Rowan said, riding up beside him. Her dark curls were pulled away from her face. She looked tired, but kept that cool smile at the ready. Maric started.

"Collete Wiscotte? That is quite the Orlesian name, Rowan." he pointed out. She shrugged, and for a moment he thought he caught a glimpse of her old self, about to make a joke. The moment passed, however, and his shoulders slumped slightly in response.

"From what I hear, her father is one of the Marquis that held lands in the Bannorn. He was driven out by our forces. Colette, however, was born in Ferelden and joined our armies four years ago. I have heard that she considers herself to be Ferelden, however Orlesian her name sounds." she explained. He nodded. If the woman had proven herself, he would not question her. As they rode into camp, he heard someone announcing his arrival. A pair of women stood outside what appeared to be a command tent. One wore the clothing of a medic, and the other the arms of a general. His gaze followed her clothing up, and when he saw her face, he gasped.

He had expected an older, battle-hardened soldier. What stood before him was a young, striking woman. Long auburn hair fell down her back in a tight braid, but a few loose curls had escaped as the day wore on. Large green eyes with thick, dark lashes looked at him over high, prominent cheekbones. Her small, slender nose had a slight wrinkle to it when she smiled with a wide, pretty mouth. She had a smattering of dark freckles across her cheeks, and her skin was darkened by the sun. Maric did not even realize he had gotten off his horse until he stood before her. Luckily for him, he appeared to have dismounted properly rather than fallen off as he was prone to do. She was taller than she looked, the top of her head reaching his nose. Both of them stared at each other for a long time. Eventually, she blinked, and a red blush colored her cheeks.

"Your Grace." she said, bowing her head and greeting him as a noblewoman rather than a general. He nearly reached out to grab her chin, just to see those beautiful eyes again. He coughed awkwardly.

"There is no need to bow to me, my lady." he murmured. She raised her head, and her answering smile put a dimple in one of her cheeks.

"Colette." she said simply.

"Maric." he replied. Suddenly, whatever magic had surrounded them was broken as Rowan appeared beside him.

"General Colette, it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance." she said, a hint of irritation in her voice. Colette straightened, suddenly the picture of a perfect soldier. She saluted Rowan.

"The pleasure is mine, my lady." she replied. Her voice had a slight rasping quality that gave her a sultry air, and although her name was Orlesian, she had a distinctly Ferelden accent.

"And Lady Rosalind? I hadn't expected to see you here." Rowan said coolly. Maric did not know the other woman, but it was clear that she and Rowan did not get along. She was pretty, but short of beautiful. Plain blonde hair fell around a pale face, where sky blue eyes refused to look at the future Queen. Her smile, when she finally did look at Rowan, was so sweet that butter would not have melted in her mouth. Maric had to repress a laugh. He wondered what their history was. Colette's wide mouth quirked into a smile.

"I could not abandon my friend when she decided to join the war efforts, but, as you know, I barely know which end of a sword is which, so I decided to help with the wounded instead." Rosalind replied in a voice that was lower than he would have expected. The sarcasm laced through her self-depricating tone was nearly enough to make him giggle like a child. He held it together, however. Rowan's face was stony, and he decided to step in for the good of everyone.

"General Colette, I was told that you held the plans for the upcoming siege?" he said. She smiled again, and gestured for them to follow her into the tent, where maps were splayed across the table.

"I will inspect them myself." Loghain said, following them in and giving the general an icy glower. She arched an eyebrow at him before launching into a simple, concise explanation of her ideas. Even Loghain found himself nodding in agreement. They were brilliant plans. Maric found himself watching her as she explained every detail. Her enthusiasm made her even more beautiful. After the meeting ended and he left her tent, Loghain caught his arm.

"Yes?" Maric asked, drawing out the word as long as he could. Loghain huffed.

"Her plans are sound, but that girl is trouble, Maric. Remember that." he said before stalking away. Maric knew that by "trouble" he meant "Orlesian", but he sighed. She certainly would be trouble, in a much different way. He had only known her for a few hours, and already she had attached herself to his heart. He sighed. "Trouble" always seemed to find him.