Skyrim X Reader (Requests are CLOSED!)

Foal!Reader x Farkas/Vilkas

Requested by Winchester_Huntress
Violence warning and language!

The moment foals were born, the pressure to follow the herd pushed them to stand. That was bad enough; (Name) had to follow her mother all over Skyrim. When she was born, her mother's master was kind enough to give the exhausted parent and foal an hour to recover. Fresh from the womb, (Name) stumbled to her hooves throughout the spared time. By the time she could wobbly hold her ground; time was up. The ever danger of Skyrim pushed The Master to evacuate. A whip snapped the air, and (Name)'s mother pulled the wagon forth; (Name) shakily following.

8 months passed, (Name) now a confident filly. With a stomach capable of handling grasses, she had gained a stubborn independence. As the old merchant wagon groaned down the cobblestone roads; (Name) ran circles around it. Many a times bumping into her mother, who snapped and shrilled in annoyance. (Name) didn't care, merely snorting with sass. After all, her mother was hitched to the wagon. What could she do? The Master, an elderly dark elf woman, was patient compared to (Name)'s mother. She chuckled an ancient laugh each time the filly showed attitude, admiring the endurance the foal showed off. At night, camping out beneath the stars, the Merchant always picked stones out of (Name)'s hooves.

"You gather stones like a hobby, my little flame, what shall I do with you? Love you, perhaps?"

Releasing a rather large stone, (Name) chattered like a moody toddler. The Merchant crackled out in laughter, hugging the dear foal.

"Little flame, I only hope you learn how to listen."

The following day conjured a fierce storm. It's ferocity making the overconfident foal cower by her mother. The Master pulled the back of her shirt collar over her head; a makeshift hood. The wagon wheels churned the bubbling mud, hooves sinking dangerously. (Name) cried out when her front leg caught, her mother crooning in encouragement to pull free. Finally, the trio passed a sign post. With the faint light of the dangling wagon lantern; The Master read as they passed.

"Rorikstead..."

She murmured, some hope in her gloomy eyes. Staring through the sheets of rain, she spots the faint lights of civilization.

'We can make it'

She mentally declares; sounding the whip. The horses push forth, trudging through the swallowing mud. To travel a single mile, it takes twenty minutes for the mare to pull the wagon through the slop. Guiding her tiring (Name), the mare cries into the deafening rain when her hooves hit solid ground. Steering towards the inn, the wagon comes to a halt. Legs shaking, the mare breathes heavily. Her lungs cry for air; each breath strained and uneasy. (Name) stays uncharacteristically calm, staring nervously at her exhausted mother. The Master dismounts the wagon, patting the wobbly mare with a thin hand.

"Rest, ol' girl. We won't move tonight."

Unhitching the mare, she ties her reins to a post. Immediately, (Name)'s mother collapses in exhaustion; side heaving. (Name) nickers, sniffing her mother's flaring nostrils. The Master heads inside the inn, not to return for the night. The rain continues to pelt the two horses, luckily the water was not freezing cold. It felt nice, refreshing, no longer a burden. (Name) surveyed the area, the faint glow of lanterns lighting the town. It was comforting, no longer in the darkness of the plains. Yet, something felt eerie; an unfamiliar discomfort tickled (Name)'s gut. The smell of metallic hit her nostrils. A spike of paranoia caused (Name) to buck, whirling around to her mother. She was fast asleep, her breathing calmer. (Name) snorted, flicking her (mane color) mane. If her mother could find the peace to sleep; so could she. Easing onto the ground, the filly closed her eyes.