I Don't Wanna be the Chosen One...

Honestly, I’m tired of always being the one who has to fix the world. “You’re the chosen one.” “The prophecy told of your coming.” - I’ve heard it all before. Oh, my real parents were royalty, I was born under a lucky moon and the villain is my godfather?

So what? How does something that happened before I stopped wetting myself, suddenly become my problem? I didn’t choose to be whisked away and raised by farmers, given a magical sword and bathed by fairies! Sure, I could go off on an adventure with my best friends (one boy, one girl) to the far off lands, cracking open treasure chests and murdering monsters, but at the end of it what do I get out of it?

The world is saved, civilisation as we knew it has returned to how we knew it (duh) and I’m hailed a hero. Well I suffer from antisocial personality disorder! I don’t want to be hailed throughout the world as the hero who stopped the space object!

I was a normal kid growing up, but now that I suddenly have magical powers and can jump thirty feet in the air (but never over small fences!), I’m forced to go on a quest to return order to the kingdom? Why not get the puckish rogue to do it? He has special powers and a ranged attack! I’ve got a sword - I’m more likely to stab myself with it for the love of whatever gods we worship!

But nope - it's never up to the rogue, the witches, wizards or even my two best friends. I have to be a big damn hero and lead them towards certain doom because some drunk old woman 'foretold' it. And what's her deal anyway? She can foretell my arrival, but the asteroid the size of Portugal heading right towards us was a surprise? It's been on a collision course for untold millennia, yet my birth was predicted down to the second? 

I call shenanigans on this whole thing! My evil uncle should have killed the old psychic before offing the old man, not leaving it until she's had time to write down every detail of my mother's birth canal. Sure he's evil and abusing his power, killed my parents and tried to do the same to me, hates everything I hold dear and made a pass at my best friend - but that doesn't mean my uncle's a bad guy...

If you were watching your livelihood being dismantled in front of your very eyes, the army he himself served in as a mighty general, but knew that weakening the country opened it to invasion, wouldn't you try your hardest to stop it? Fratricide aside, who even cares who runs a powerful country? Nobody, so long as they're afraid of the person in charge. Sure, working hard is it's own reward and that faff - but gold, power and babes are a better reward.

I mean, how many goody-two-shoes have awesome outfits with spikes on them? And cool looking swords? Why do the good guys never live in a sweet castle filled with death traps? When was the last time Mr Hero got to order the slaughter of a hundred peons?

So basically what I'm saying is - I don't want to be the chosen one: I want to be the villain.