"You're going to drink it all!" I yelled to Farkas, who was chugging a bottle of Alto wine we found in the whelps' quarters. He pulled the bottle away from his lips, and placed it in my outstretched hand.

He and I were sitting cross-legged on the floor of my bedroom, drinking and talking as we had been for hours. This was how we spent most of our time, but with Eorland sort of paroling the halls, we were being a little sneakier.

Farkas started to giggle, becoming top-heavy and falling backwards onto his back. He laid on the floor, laughing to himself. I cocked my head to the side. "What's so funny?"

He looked over at me, a smile firm against his cheeks. "Aela, we would be terrible Harbingers."

I don't know what it was, but the thought of both us in charge was actually very funny. I found myself laughing too as I leaned across the floor to grab another bottle of wine. I rolled it toward him so he could open it. The corks were on too tight for me.

"Why is Lissa so good at it?" I asked as Farkas passed the bottle back. "Why is she so good at everything?"

"No, no. There has to be something she's bad at." he said, looking up at the ceiling. We sat in silence for a moment, trying to think of something. Farkas turned his head toward me after a while. "I bet she's really bad at maces."

I gasped. "I bet you're right! She's probably really bad at maces!" I took a sip, then widened my eyes. "And I bet Vilkas is bad at maces too!"

Farkas nodded. "He is. He's terrible at using maces." He looked confused then. "Aela, are we good at maces?"

I wiggled around in excitement. "We could be. We should train tomorrow!"

"Yes!" Farkas exclaimed, and we both high-fived. "By the time they get back, they're gonna be so jealous."

"Yeah, we'll be great at maces and they won't be." I took another sip, relaxing against my bed. "What else is Lissa bad at?"

Farkas laughed, rubbing his hands against his face. "Why do you need Lissa to be—" He burped, cutting his stream of words off. "—bad at something?"

I groaned, kicking my feet aimlessly. "I don't know. There just has to be something. She can't be good at everything."

"Neither can you. Neither can any of us." He grabbed my boot and wiggled my foot. "Stop trying so hard to be the best at everything."

I sighed as I stared at him, trying to make sense of his words. "If I'm not the best at something, I'm the worst."

"Who told you that?"

I coughed, thinking for a moment. "My father." I handed the bottle back to Farkas. "He wanted to raise perfect warriors. My father was a perfect swordsman. My mother was a perfect warrior and a perfect Companion."

Farkas sat up and leaned against the bed next to me. He passed the bottle back to me. "Why does that mean you have to be perfect?"

I took a few sips before I answered. "I don't know."

He shrugged. "So stop trying."

"I don't know if I can."

Farkas laughed again. "Don't know if you don't try."

"Drunken resolutions." I remarked, laughing. "Fine. But if I have to stop striving, you have to stop something too. We're turning over a new leaf."

"What?" Farkas asked. As usual, he didn't quite get metaphors.

"It means we're making changes."

"Don't know what that has to do with leaves. Whatever you say, though." He rested his head against my mattress. "What do I have to change?"

"You have to…" I thought for a moment, then I snapped my fingers. "You have to give at least one person in Jorrvaskr an unusual complement every day."

He looked confused. "Unusual. Like what?"

"Unusual like…instead of telling Torvar his battle stance is good, tell him his hair looks nice. Or instead of complimenting Ria's swing, tell her she looks pretty."

Farkas groaned. "Everyone is going to think I'm looking to court them."

I laughed at how displeased he looked. "If you want me to stop trying to be perfect, you have to make everyone else feel like they already are."

He thought for a moment, then nodded his head. "Fine. For you."

"Great." I said, nudging him with my elbow. "I feel imperfect already."

"You are." Farkas noted. "Imperfect."

I was angry for a moment. "How? What's wrong with me?"

Farkas mumbled in thought. "You're really bad at doing things for yourself." I felt my brow furrow, but Farkas continued. "For someone who says she likes to be alone, you're really bad at not taking care of other people." He reached up to brush some hair away from my face. "And you're really, really bad at being ugly."

My head was swimming from all the liquor, but beyond that, everything was clear. I tried to think of all of the reasons not to have feelings for Farkas, as I had tried for months. I thought of our positions in the Companions, and how ultimately, it didn't even matter. I thought of our personalities, so different that we should clash, yet we fit together perfectly. I thought of Skjor, but I knew he wouldn't want me to consider his feelings anymore if it would affect my own happiness.

It was for all of these reasons that when Farkas left his hand against my cheek, waiting for me to say something, I just smiled. And when he leaned forward to kiss me, looking so unsure but so eager, I closed my eyes and let him. Let him love me. Let myself feel loved again.

And it was absolutely perfect.