A Title Guessing Game

A Title Guessing Game

If anyone can guess (or come close to guessing) the title of my SGE WIP longfic, or any of its details, I will post a brief excerpt from the draft. The fic's title is fittingly long, considering its anticipated length.

This is the title's abbreviation:

TOTSMOV41

I don't mind if anyone comes up with ridiculous answers either. If anyone does want to have some fun with the prompt, I'll be entertained, of course. So, have at it, in any way you want, as outrageous as you want! I’m literally inviting you to bring your assumptions.

You can comment below. Let the games begin!

Also, just so no one gets their hopes up, don't expect this fic anytime soon, not for months and months, or even a year or more, I'm willing to bet. It's going to take so long to organize my notes, arrange my outline more efficiently, and draft the thing itself, and I'm probably going to have to wait for a vacation to work on it. So, that's the status update though this is the first time I've really announced this fic formally.

Probably, the most abstract clue I could possibly offer you is this music. It is my fic's "theme song," in terms of tone. It's not entirely representational of the fic as the fic has some humorous moments. Yet, I've been associating this song with the fic, so it's my subjective interpretation. So, if you were to read the draft, there is a chance it would not fit 100%, so you can take the music in broad strokes, as some of the rising and falling plot beats or the shape of the story. (You can skip to around the timestamp 1:28 and listen from there onwards if you don't want to listen to the whole video.)

To me, the music evokes vibes like a phoenix rising from the ashes. When all is lost, when you've reached the "darkest night of the soul," and everything is hopeless and futile. The tension ramps up. Blood courses through veins, quickening. Becoming faster and faster, punctuated, overlapping. One trial after another. Trial after trial. It all comes to a head, a crescendo, the tension lancing through you. And you endure a hard landing, jarring your feet.

If you examine my description, you may find oblique, "symbolic" spoilers, so I doubt they'll be apparent. Anyway, I hope that I will be able to echo this tone in my fic, to be as "loud" and chaotic in certain parts of it.

But, when you guess, by all means, you can ignore the music, if you have any other ideas. To rule out some guesses, this fic is not exclusively a prequel-focused one.

Also, @heyo-428 this is the "crystal and bathtub" fic I told you about, if you're still interested. But, no need to engage if you don't want to! The answer may be more obvious to you, I suspect. And, if you want to, I'll let you present the miniscule details I gave you the other day.

Excerpts from The One True School Master of Vault 41

These are two excerpts from my draft that I think I can share without disclosing major spoilers.

Warning: Contains blood and injury.

@discjude I should probably also mention, when I said "humorous," it's really just a couple lines. The whole thing probably seems a bit dismal. So, the first excerpt is the "humorous" one, and the second is the serious one. Also, there's a reason why the Wizard Tree is burnt, if you think it contradicts its canon descriptions in OTK.

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A hideous, sickening CRACK from without interrupted them.

Sophie glanced worriedly at the charred, blackened husk of a tree around her, a single, unspoken question in her eyes.

“Broken bone,” Rafal determined, casually conclusive without a hint of emotion or morbidity.

“How in the world do you know that, pray tell?”

Rafal rolled his shoulders back, straightening. “Practice,” he answered. “I’ve heard it often enough.” He did not elaborate.

Typical Rafal, really. Nothing to stir up a fuss about, Sophie dismissed. She watched as he found a serviceable foothold in the wood, so he could scale the trunk-length, and reach the opening at the top where she’d first fallen through from the boughs high above. Only the faintest shafts of faltering daylight cut through the dark that subsumed them now.

He had to conserve his magic until he needed it more urgently as his immortality seemed compromised. His breath ran a bit ragged, and his strength had waned since the last time she’d seen him, as he died. They probably wouldn’t have the chance to rest until she reunited with Agatha and Tedros, and not even then. They had to reach the Schools, so they could redouble their efforts against Japeth. The outcome barely boded well though. It wasn’t heartening in the least. Even with her half-alive sorcerer, their pitiful forces were paltry compared to Japeth’s.

She began to make her way out, to climb up and out of the Wizard Tree after him. Her heels kept slipping, sinking into hollows and gouging the brittle, burnt inner walls of wood, now riddled with puncture marks and splinters that scraped her hands raw until pinpricks of blood appeared. Tears sprang to her eyes as she took a breath, attempting to calm herself.

Rafal offered her a hand.

She took it.

Hers was just as cold as his, he noted, pinning his gaze on her one, red-soaked, rusted, white sleeve.

The two of them emerged from the hollow inside of the tree, and Sophie attempted to brush off her concern, flush against the rough, dead bark, while straddling a branch that bowed slightly under her weight. Could it be the dragging, heavy, silken layers of her gown weighing her down? She just had to lower herself down to the ground, branch by branch.

She didn’t move, fixed in place by fear, gripping her branch until her knuckles turned as white as her dress had once been.

Even if everything was dwarfed by the great height of their vantage point, quite a battle persisted far below, a lot of figures scrabbling in the dust, others picking their way up the formidable tree, the dull clang of metal on metal ringing out, the shouts of men resounding. And, on the far side of the brawl, one lone, dark figure sprawled in the dirt, coated in blue pollen, choking and hacking, clawing at his—or her—throat?

Rafal reached out and steadied Sophie with a hand to her shoulder as he leaned over from where he was seated astride his own swaying branch.

Yet, something still nagged her, and her thoughts darted away from the potential fall she had before her. Just whose bones could it have been? What if it was someone she knew?

Well, Agatha had the answer to that.

[Timeskip to a different scene. A lot happens between points A to B on the run from the Snake, but that will be in the final draft.]

⸻

[After the timeskip and a harrowing chase. There are scenes missing between here that will be in the final draft.]

Kiko quaked on the polished balcony of Merlin’s Menagerie, peeping at a tangled, three-headed mass, silhouetted by the red, sinking sun, and flying in the sky above the Schools on the horizon! No, toward the Schools!

In the dying light, the three figures in flight rapidly descended, narrowly clearing the sharp spires of the School gates. Were they heading toward the clearing that fronted Good, the great lawn spangled with flowers? No, the mass landed on the man-made, cement island in Halfway Bay, near where the Schools’ dark and clear waters met, the way oil repels water, colliding but never melding due to the magical barrier in place. The waves crashed onto shore, below the former School Master’s silver tower, now Dean Sophie’s residence, and the bay beneath the bridge shone, refracting broken garnet and silver hues.

The mass promptly separated into three people. Two girls and a tall boy. The boy, who appeared to have jarred his feet, collapsed in exhaustion. One of the girls in a billowing, red-and-white gown knelt down to examine him, and the second girl prodded him with her clump-clad foot, but lost her balance and fell, arms flagging and windmilling. The first girl rushed over to her instead. The boy rose by himself, and he and the first girl led the second, fallen girl to the entrance of the School for Good, crossing the bridge without issue.

Kiko rushed down the slick, glass staircases to the entrance, almost tripping over herself. She had to get down in a hurry, to greet, or to possibly fend off these new arrivals—and find out who they were!

Kiko gasped, and just about dropped dead from shock, gaping in horror at the procession which filed into Good’s glass foyer.

Sophie entered first. She looked vaguely disoriented and disheveled, like an ill-treated porcelain doll as she stumbled forward gracelessly. Her complexion was bloodless, drained, as if the blood coursing through her veins as been siphoned away and sprayed all across the front of her prim, lacey, white wedding gown, its hem that was intended to skim the floor, draping in folds, torn to threadbare tatters. Flecks and smatters and streaky smudges of blood adorned her gown. It wasn’t all fresh blood, but she was still pale and staggered as if she were suffering from some sort of invisible blood loss. Kiko suspected the one aggravated arm, with a once-white sleeve that was soaked through. It was particularly rusty near her wrist and all along her forearm.

Agatha groaned in pain.

“Don’t ask,” Sophie snipped. “It’s a long story. Longer than we have time for.”

Agatha hobbled in second on what seemed to be a broken leg. Her arm was looped through Sophie’s, and she was barely able to shuffle forward as she had a significant limp. One entire side of her body was covered by a medley of unsightly purple, black, and blue bruises. And, thin cuts and scratches and shallow lacerations all over her bloodied, exposed limbs, injuries sustained from her fall from the Wizard Tree though Kiko couldn’t begin to guess their source. The wind had whipped the snarled branches around, lashing Agatha. She was paler than ever.

And, she was coated in dust, dirt, soot, and—was that blue pollen? She wore a soiled, raggedy black sack of a dress, like she’d reverted to her Graveyard Girl self, and worse still, had ceded to a dust bath. Kiko also detected an odd lump, a canvas bag slung over Agatha’s narrow frame.

Then, the School Master?

The School Master supported Agatha’s other side in his grasp. He met Kiko’s gaze, and she shuddered reflexively, thoughts of wicked geese and mogrification cycling around her mind, even if at this moment he looked too spent to pose much of a threat.

He stood in the doorway, grey and haggard, dour shadows under his eyes, exhausted beyond belief. A deep, dark shade of garnet permeated his clothes, the same black, double-breasted, dictator jacket, slacks, and tall boots Kiko remembered from the Great War, yet his clothes were rumpled and sooty, and the smears of coagulated blood had nearly oxidized to black. At least half of his scalp was crusted with thick, clotted blood, already dried and matted in his snow-white hair, plastering it, stained red, to the side of his face. It was as if he’d been cleaved through the skull with a rather wide blade.

“Well?” Sophie demanded harshly to poor Kiko who was stunned speechless. “Aren’t we going to bring her to the infirmary?”

Sideblog Announcement

I have started a sideblog: www.tumblr.com/masterofthecygnetsignet

It will mostly be for some SGE posting with less substance and for non-SGE yet still book-related things.

Rafal is the King of the Golden Mountain

"The King of the Golden Mountain" is such a Never fairy tale, and a canonical one at that (not in SGE, I mean classic, fairy-tale canon). Since the protagonist becomes royalty, he's probably an Ever, even if he uses violent means to reach his end. So, maybe Good is only Good relatively speaking in this tale. At first, the king does try for the peaceful solution, and some Good fairy tales do end in gruesome punishment for the villains. However, a mass of people standing in the way of you getting your throne back aren't all exactly villains, which is why I'm insinuating that the seemingly Ever king is probably a Never king at heart.

The protagonist reminds me of Rafal immensely, in terms of his reactions and everything. The tale is brutal, and it's basically a revenge-fantasy story, which seems odd considering how most of the Brothers Grimm stories, or the better-known ones, at least, have fairly "happy" endings. This one just reeks of bloodlust and victory and smug satisfaction. Like, seriously, it's insane. And, you'd think that by the title, it'd be more Midas-like, but no, I'd say it's Rafal-like. Really.

The poor, suffering king is just deservedly unhinged at this point, like how Rafal should have gotten his proper, very plausible villain arc. I'm still bitter over the Fall identity-swap plot twist! Rafal deserved real vengeance! Especially after he slaved away for Rhian, to fix mess after mess, problem after problem. By the Storian, can't he just get a break! I suppose that, at best, he could be in Purgatory. He was never truly Good enough for Heaven because I don't think a sudden turn realistically can make up for a lifetime of Evil deeds.

Also, this is a tale where practically everyone's beheaded, so just a little advance notice.

Anyway, here's an excerpt from the ending section:

When he was near his palace, he heard sounds of joy, and fiddles, and flutes, and the people told him that his wife was celebrating her wedding with another. Then he fell into a rage, and said, "False woman, she betrayed and deserted me whilst I was asleep!" So he put on his cloak, and unseen by all went into the palace. When he entered the dining-hall a great table was spread with delicious food, and the guests were eating and drinking, and laughing, and jesting. She sat on a royal seat in the midst of them in splendid apparel, with a crown on her head. He placed himself behind her, and no one saw him. When she put a piece of meat on a plate for herself, he took it away and ate it, and when she poured out a glass of wine for herself, he took it away and drank it. She was always helping herself to something, and yet she never got anything, for plate and glass disappeared immediately. Then dismayed and ashamed, she arose and went to her chamber and wept, but he followed her there. She said, "Has the devil power over me, or did my deliverer never come?" Then he struck her in the face, and said, "Did thy deliverer never come? It is he who has thee in his power, thou traitor. Have I deserved this from thee?" Then he made himself visible, went into the hall, and cried, "The wedding is at an end, the true King has returned." The kings, princes, and councillors who were assembled there, ridiculed and mocked him, but he did not trouble to answer them, and said, "Will you go away, or not?" On this they tried to seize him and pressed upon him, but he drew his sword and said, "All heads off but mine," and all the heads rolled on the ground, and he alone was master, and once more King of the Golden Mountain.

The ending is just so vicariously satisfying! I'm hoping someone will see what I mean because it can't just be me who sees the likeness. This protagonist has his petty, chaotic fun, and is mischievous, like Fala's presence at the Circus. And, he suffered at the hands of various men, for his princess, later his wife, a supposed True Love (the cheater!), just like Rafal sacrificed and went through so much physical pain for Rhian, his True Love and the equivalent of the wife in this story. And, Rafal was almost imprisoned with a life-sentence, and was overthrown by Vulcan just like this king was replaced by another, a false hero. After all that he did for Rhian! The injustice! Besides, it feels like a very Rafal thing to cleverly fleece people out of their belongings, even if it seems somewhat accidental in nature in this particular tale. (This happened earlier in the tale, before this scene. And, the wife didn't completely deserve death, I'll admit. The king himself also erred at times, so they're both at fault.)

Side note from while I was writing this: this has got to be the best, most fitting typo I have ever made: "overthrone" instead of "overthrown," and yet, it still applies to tyranny and thrones! Haha!

If you want to read the entire tale, here's one source from which the excerpt came:

And the Wikipedia page for further analysis/a shorthand summary:

en.wikipedia.org

The King of the Golden Mountain - Wikipedia

If anyone is interested in reading about another fairy tale parallel to the prequels, here's a link to an old "Faithful John" post of mine.

One True King Tagging Announcement & TOTSMOV41 Excerpts

I finally figured out how to fix the visibility on one of my posts that didn't appear in the main tags, and thought this information could be useful to anyone that posts about SGE, particularly The Camelot Years.

Originally, I tagged this post, excerpts from my WIP longfic, titled The One True School Master of Vault 41, using the relevant tag "otk." The fic itself is an alternate continuity of One True King, involving Rafal, Sophie, Agatha, the Wizard Tree, and Dovey's crystal ball. However, I just discovered that all posts tagged under "otk" have been hidden because for some, unknown reason, certain posts under the tag violate Tumblr's Community Guidelines. So, whenever you reference One True King, I'd advise tagging your posts with the full title "one true king," to avoid any issues with visibility.

Furthermore, if anyone reads my excerpts, I'd love to receive any kind of feedback/concrit, or to hear your thoughts and reactions! And, I might be willing to answer any questions you have around the fic, assuming I can avoid discussing major spoilers from my plot.

If The Last Ever After Underwent a Major Tone Shift:

"Don't mind me," Rafal prodded, smiling. "Who needs a villain when you three have each other?"