Test Drive Meme #3

[changelinged]

TDM #3 - May/June 2025

🦋 Introduction

Welcome to the Pixie Led Test Drive Meme!

The prompts will always be game canon, provided both characters who participate in a thread are either already in the game, or get accepted in the next application round.

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🦋 The Party

You wake up at a party.

You're not sure how, exactly, you got here. You may have just been walking in the woods or at a meeting for work or doing any other normal activity for you. But you know you weren't supposed to be at this party, you're fairly certain.

Anyone you ask about it will say the party is for you. You and the others also waking up and looking confused. Further questions will lead to the partygoers insisting you have something to eat. You're starving and others are eating the food without repercussion, so you figure there's no harm in a bite. You finish your portion.

It's another garden party near a large hedge maze in the middle of the night. With his penchant for games the Ruler of the Spring Court decided it would be nice to hold an actual game for all the Adopted present. None of that dreidel game a couple of parties ago. This time, he wants more spectacle with higher stakes. Forced to participate and host aspects of this gathering as well, the Ruler of the Dark Court wanted nothing to do with this, so he figured his participation in itself is for the party to happen at night, during his rule, when his mood is at its most pleasant.

Of course, there is no shortage of light sources such as candles and torches, much to the Earl's chagrin, as well as no shortage of food. This time, the fae decided to try their hand on some pasta. They heard it's a good delicacy from the mortal plane. Thing is, sauces look and smell bizarre. One's purple, while another's bright pink, and they taste fruity, as well as flowery, much like the cookies from the last gathering.

As the party winds down and everyone's eaten, a tall, stately woman stands up and speaks. You feel her voice more than hear it.

I am the Lawspeaker of the Fae, elected by Seelie and Unseelie alike, and you are all, now, subjects of Faerie. You cannot leave this realm once you have eaten our food, and even if you could, there is no saying how much time has passed back where you're from. Your loved ones are likely dead, your problems have likely played out. We require assistance in various matters, and each of you has been chosen for your talent and skill. You will be adopted by one of the Seelie or Unseelie Courts based on your strengths and personality. Your Court will decide what to do with you from there.

As suddenly as she stood, she sits back down.

🦋 Feeling on Hedge

So, what about this hedge maze that seems to have appeared out of nowhere and looming quite eerily beside this night's gathering? For one, peculiar noises can be heard whenever one's near its entrance. From the rustling of leaves to a woman crying, everything seems to be coming from inside.

Of course, the Adopted's participation is required and paramount. Anyone who refuses will be met with harsh penalties and consequences, whatever those may be. They also hint of a prize to anyone who comes out victorious on the other side. It's unclear what it is, though.

The fae know that while the Adopted have been very useful so far, they are also vulnerable and susceptible to fear, so to mitigate that, they have some colorful shots on a table marked LIQUID COURAGE near the entrance to the maze with such effects:

• Gold: Essentially a strong drink that gives you profound energy for 24 hours.
• Red: Downing this will make you feel warm like an aphrodisiac.
• Blue: Basically functions like a normal tequila shot. Or three. Comes with a little bag of salt.

These shots are not compulsory for the Adopted to take, but they will be highly encouraged to do so before entering. Once inside, the rustling of leaves and the sounds of someone crying become louder and even more evident. There are also a few key things that seem to be very clear the longer an Adopted is within the maze's walls:

• The maze is moving. How it's doing it, nobody knows. But it appears to be alive somehow, much like the castle grounds, so finding a clear pathway is almost impossible.
• Whenever an Adopted turns right two consecutive times, they will see a more positive outcome from a terrible event in their lives. Lost someone? They're now here and alive. Gave up on a dream? You find yourself currently living it.
• If an Adopted turns left two consecutive times, they will see someone, a family member or a friend who's still alive and had a deep impact on their lives, bleeding and dead on the ground.

It would be great if no one else can see an Adopted during their most vulnerable, but since the maze moves constantly, another Adopted or two might be able to see them trying to parse out what they're seeing, even if their fellow Adopted can't see it themselves.

🦋 Can't Unseelie It

CW: dismemberment, body horror, forced body transformations, mild gore, asphyxiation, drowning of children, death

The Spring King only wanted some good-natured fun within the maze, but unbeknownst to him, some Unseelie creatures and Unseelie magic have appeared inside, threatening the safety of the Adopted traversing every nook and cranny. Surely this will not have any lasting consequences between the relationship of the Seelie and Unseelie court rulers. Not at all.

A few of these Unseelie beings and Unseelie magic roaming around the hedge maze that the Adopted will have a chance to meet are as follows:

• Manananggal: Capable of severing its torso from its legs, this vampiric creature usually preys on sleeping pregnant women and unborn babies. But not anymore. Due to magic put on it, this manananggal will strike anyone it comes across. Better pour salt on its severed lower torso once you find it, or else.
• La Llorona: Remember that woman crying? Well, somewhere in the maze alongside the eerie sounds of water flowing, you'll come across a weeping woman cloaked in white with her back turned against you. Be careful not to approach her because once you do, she'll try to choke you to death, reminiscent of how she drowned her own children.
• Jersey Devil: The first thing you'll hear once you turn is a high-pitched, blood-curdling scream then the sound of bat wings flapping. You better run as fast as you can to the other direction because this devil is out to attack anyone it sees on its path.
• A fountain: How odd. Running from the jersey devil or the manananggal might have made you thirsty so perhaps there's no harm in drinking from it. But just coming in contact with its water will make any Adopted soon realize they have transformed into an Unseelie creature.

Fighting off these creatures might be best with a fellow Adopted. After all, there's power in numbers. Just be careful not to die within the hedge maze. There might be some dire consequences.

🦋 GEIS

You feel a vibration in your pocket sometime after the Lawspeaker addresses everyone. When you search for the source, you will pull out your Leaf, the device the Fae use to stay in touch with each other. Anyone who's used a smart phone will easily recognize how it works.

Greetings, Adopted. This is your Lawspeaker.

To be on theme with our festivities for tonight, we want to know a time in your life when you felt lost and wandering about. Perhaps the most compelling story will receive a reward from us.

ｎａｖｉｇａｔｉｏｎ

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Comments

[verfeuern]

If she survives? She actually gapes at him, trying to contain her amusement.

"Not only will I survive, but I'll do so without dirtying your pretty blade. You can have it back only if you survive. Otherwise, I'll consider it your gift to me for your amusement at my struggles." He didn't look amused in the slightest; she is simply poking fun of his serious disposition. A small reprieve after her encounter with the beast, her hand is still trembling from the adrenaline, and she has to divert that energy elsewhere.

"Skoros iksos naejot keligon ao hen gaomagon aōha egros va issa hembar? Gaomagon nyke pāsagon ao?" Despite her inquiry she does glide by him to take the lead, likely due to the fact that she is pleased to have an escort of sorts. Her temperament might be fiery but even she knows when she is treading water, she is not equipped to handle the dangers of the maze on her own, but her mysterious relative is. Even now she is mentally flipping through pages of notes while trying to discern his identity.

"Many would sooner lose their titles than willingly arm me," she calls over a shoulder, testing out the balance of the blade upon her fingertips.

[angotas]

That comment did, in fact, earn a smirk from Aemond, this time more obvious. He gazed at her with a steady, quiet intensity for a long moment, as though sizing her up. Then he inclined his head, yielding to her statement. "It will be as you say," he said, more than a little curious to see whether one of them would die. He'd been waiting for death to claim him soon. That his last legacy lay in the hands of a family member he'd armed with a blade just seemed fitting.

"Ao ȳdragon olvie," he muttered loud enough for her ears, partly teasing even though it was the truth. Aemond had always been a relatively quiet child, peering at people like a sentry on duty. Still, he followed her at a respectful distance, though not far enough that he couldn't defend her if necessary. Which made his next words all the more ironic. "If I managed to stab you, I would be sorely disappointed in your poor reflexes. You should be able to draw that dagger faster than I can draw my sword." He really shouldn't have been amused as he was, and yet.

It was her last admission that identified this unnamed Targaryen in his mind. Surely this must be Daenerys, the woman who challenged the Queen in the North. "I am not like many people, Your Grace," Aemond said blithely. There was a note of pride in his voice, but it was a confidence born of hard work and struggle. Most people assumed his weakness as a child. Most of those people were dead now.

[verfeuern]

"Is that doubt I hear? On your part or mine, I wonder." He'll find she can rattle on like this for days without ever losing her breath and when she looks over her shoulder at him, she is grinning to herself. Without missing a beat, she turns to face him with the purpose of walking backward so they can speak face to face. She trusts him to warn her of danger for the sheer fact that she seems to be holding onto a dagger he prizes.

"Ao ȳzaldrīzes tolī byka," comes the accusation of her own with a hint of exasperation behind it. At one point she pretends to teeter like she might fall over then, at the last second, the corners of her mouth twist up into an impish smile. "You're making me feel less inclined to return this to you at the end of our adventure. There was a time that I would have given anything to be a knight or explore the world to my heart's content."

There's a hint of longing in her gaze that she stifles quickly enough, just in time for Aemond to refer to her as Your Grace. She can feel it blossoming in her chest, a feeling of pride that also comes with trepidation. Her claim still runs strong for the time being, but the feeling of doubt is suffocating. "Princess Rhaenyra," she corrects him, "and it wouldn't be the Realm you would have to contend with but my father. Who doesn't share in my vision of glory for myself." In fact, if Viserys saw her with the dagger in her hand, he would scold the both of them thoroughly, but the state of her dress would have him red in the face.

"There must be an interesting name to go with that pride." The pointed look she gives him hides nothing; she isn't asking a question. "Unless you prefer I call you my one-eyed savior." He's hidden it away like some kind of shameful secret, she's well aware of the fact that he will disapprove of his new moniker. Her determination when there is something she wants is unmatched and right now she desires his name above all else.

[angotas]

He let her stew in that initial question without comment, not particularly inclined to spread out all his cards at once. That didn't mean he had no interest in forging an alliance with her, certainly if it meant avoiding potential conflict in the future between her and the Stark girl, but Aemond was reticent on a good day. She was lucky he wasn't deeply suspicious right now, too. This Targaryen, at least, seemed eager to talk, and he preferred listening anyway. That was good.

With a raised eyebrow, he watched disapprovingly as his companion turned to walk backward, and when she teetered, he lunged forward instinctively — only to stop short when she seemed fine. Aemond made an irritated noise. "You can be a knight easily enough here, if you have the dedication for it." That was, in his opinion, the most important part. Cocking his head, he smirked at her. "It involves waking up at dawn every day to train, you know."

And then she revealed who she was.

Stopping dead in his tracks, Aemond stared, uncomprehending, at the single force that would grow up to become a nightmarish figure in his life. He felt a cold chill sweep over him, and he must have looked like he was staring at a ghost, horror and confusion and pain warring in his chest. Princess Rhaenyra. Queen Rhaenyra.

Aemond didn't hear anything of what she said after that. In fact, the moment sensation returned to his limbs, Aemond was turning on his heel and striding in the opposite direction, moving at a swift pace. With any luck, he'd be gone by the time she could even think to catch up with his retreating figure. Was it cowardly? Absolutely. But he couldn't think to do anything else in his panic.

[verfeuern]

"The privileges of men are not afforded to women, equality in that regard is nothing but a dream. We're made to birth heirs, dress beautifully and indulge in discussions so voluble that I would rather go to war than entertain them." Unable to mask her displeasure on the topic she huffs and wrinkles up her nose. "I have the dedication and more. The hour of the day hardly matters if it liberates me. Are you to be my— "

She doesn't get to finish her sentence because this man with an overall intimidating air about him flees from her presence. What once was admiration quickly devolves into something bordering on disgust, especially when she turns around to find this so-called terrible threat and sees nothing of the sort. Is he running from her? She is the heir to the Iron Throne, and he is leaving her in a maze full of bloodthirsty creatures to do with her as they see fit.

"Skorkydoso raqagon nykeā vala naejot dakogon hen gaomilaksir," she sighs out without caring if he hears her, turning over the blade he's left behind between her hands. How typical that she be the last one standing. What use are Targaryen sons who are incapable of matching her fire? To think that Viserys himself once doubted his decision, he would surely turn away in shame at this farce.

As calculating as ever, she lets Aemond get several paces away before calling out to his back. Unlike his apprehensive rivals, should he turn back to face her, he will find his half-sister looking positively innocent with one arm folded beneath her chest and the other wiggling his forgotten treasure at him. She isn't even looking at him. The game she plays is a dangerous one, but she has never shied away from uneven odds before.

"What a reputation I must have to send a man so fluent in combat fleeing for his life. The one-eye coward is shall be, then!"

[angotas]

Gods, she complained a lot. Aemond rolled his eye skyward, making no effort to interject during her tirade. She was clearly well-used to talking at people rather than talking to them, and for a moment, she reminded him so much of his father he could barely stand it. Wandering around aimlessly, bemoaning the injustices of the world, never doing a damn thing to change any of it. When the truth of her identity finally came out, he shouldn't have been surprised. The resemblance wasn't simply uncanny, it was intentional.

He was nearly at the end of the path when she shouted at him. One-eyed coward. Something in the prince snapped. "You little —" Aemond whirled on his heel, biting back a rather unflattering descriptor in favor of staring at her with an absolutely wild look. It was intense, and full of fury, and just a shade starving. Oh, he'd been waiting for this. A reason to lose control. An excuse to finally tear his mask off and indulge in his simmering rage.

That reason, ironically enough, came in the form of a half-sister he barely recognized. "Nyke dakogon naejot spare aōha ābrar, dārilaros," Aemond purred, advancing on her slowly, like a storm cloud rolling in from a distance. "Sir bona nyke gīmigon qilōni iksā, eman tolvie paktot naejot ossēnagon ao." Despite his words, he didn't draw his sword. Aemond merely stood over her, inches apart, their hot breath mingling as he leaned in with a smile that made him look insane.

"Do you wish for me to accompany you even now, Rhaenyra?" He ground her given name out like a curse, as though it were better fit to be spat. "Or will you turn away as our pathetic father did from the mistakes he himself insisted on dragging into this wretched world?" Aemond was panting hard, absolutely lost to his anger, utterly uncaring of everything he was revealing to her.

[verfeuern]

In the span of five seconds, she has learned everything she needs to know about Aemond and more. Proud to a fault, not unlike her, and unwilling to dodge a slight even when they are surrounded by unknown dangers. They're both so enamored with their argument that even the sound of other creatures making their way through the maze doesn't stir her. She meets his dangerous stare head-on, clutching the dagger he gave her with every intention of using it if she must.

"Ao dakogon naejot mīsagon aōhon," the words come spilling out before she can think about them. Rhaenyra can tolerate the barbs that are meant for her but the ones that come for her father cause her annoyance to bubble up into a simmering rage. She doesn't pull the blade because he's right, she would have the advantage on the draw.

Her answer to his challenge isn't a smile but a pointed look that would command obedience from anyone else. She thrusts a hand out so the sheathed dagger thumps against his chest, returning the only guarantee of her survival through this trial while maintaining eye contact. Pitiful as her knife might be, she can use it knowing it didn't come from the belt of someone who craves to end her life. "You misunderstand. I wanted to return this to you. You need it more than I," she utters and once he takes it back, she palms her own. "Kesrio syt ao'll ojughagon tolī than nykeā laes rūsīr ȳzaldrīzes raqagon bona."

"If you mean to frighten me you've failed, and if you intended to kill me you would have done so. I know your face now; you won't be given a second chance to take it." Brother or not, she has no intention of dying before claiming her birthright. Her anger shifts when he speaks of mistakes and their shared parentage but, rather than sympathize, her temperament borders on annoyance. "My siblings are children," she concludes without distinction, she could be talking about their youth or Aemond's demeanor right now. Either way, when she's said her piece, she turns on a heel and walks away from him, fully intending to leave him to his rage and misery.

But she pauses and glances over her shoulder, murmuring: "I'm finding a way out, not turning away. For the sheer purpose of proving you wrong." That she needs his help. Unwise, maybe, to turn away from one so adept with a blade but she's grown weary of all her detractors. Nothing will ever truly silence them, but she can silence this one. With everything that has gone on thus far, the last thing she wants to confront is the uncertainty brought on by a brother grown.

cw: body mutilation

[angotas]

In another life, Aemond might have admired his sister. He might have trailed after her, insisting on her time and attention, pushing between her sons for a scrap of her approval. But he couldn't remember even a moment when Rhaenyra had spared him a glance save for one fateful night. As the maester finished with sewing his skin shut, after his face had nearly been cleaved in two, when the wound was still fresh and her words were like daggers. Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned, she'd said, and Aemond had leaned around his chair to look at her, finding nothing but cold resolution in her eyes.

That was when he'd realized a great many things about her. And it was with that memory that he bore down on her now. Perhaps it wasn't fair, but such thoughts were a distant concern to him when his anger burned through him like dragonfire. Snatching the dagger from her, Aemond laughed sharply. "You know nothing," he spat, snarling like an animal, yet carefully sheathing the dagger all the same. "You never cared about anything, did you? Not about our siblings, our father, the realm. Nothing but yourself and your endless whining and your own petty whims."

He'd have continued his tirade if, during Rhaenyra's, a beast hadn't chosen that exact moment to rear its head from behind her. With a frustrated snarl, Aemond took the dagger his sister had given back to him and flung it with all his strength, striking the creature directly between its eyes. "Watch where you're WALKING," he barked, striding to retrieve the weapon with another annoyed huff. It hadn't yet occurred to him that he was still attempting to protect her even now.