Work Header

The Chosen One: 12 Step Support Group

Chapter Text


The Bard checked the piece of paper again: Room 124. He verified the plaque by the door and knocked.

The voice of a teenage boy with a British accent called out "It's open!" The door creaked as he opened it.

Inside, there were people seated around a circle of folding chairs. The most prominent was a tall, strong looking man in obsidian black armor. The face plate of his helmet somewhat resembled a stylized skull, and he breathed slow, heavy, ponderous breaths. Whhhhhh pahhhhhh... Next to him, a dignified man with brown hair in a tight-fitting leather suit. His eyes glowed blue, and regarded the Bard suspiciously. Next to him, turned around in his chair to face him, a teenage boy with dirty-blond hair and a gun holstered inside his bluejeans waistband. Next in the circle, a younger, jovial-looking boy in loose-fitting clothes with the design of a blue arrow tattooed on his bald head and down his arms. A staff leaned casually against his shoulder, and he smiled hopefully. Completing the circle, a handsome boy with unruly black hair, spectacles, robes like a judge, a garish red and yellow striped tie, and a scar on his forehead in the shape of a lightening bolt.

The bard sighed. "Is this Chosen One's...thing?"

"Yes it is," said the boy with the lightening scar, apparently the one with the British accent. "Welcome. Have a seat."

The Bard considered making his case now, that he wasn't really a Chosen One, but good ol Bodb back in Kirkwall warned him that denial was the first sign of a problem. He took a seat between Arrow Boy and Gun Kid.

Lightening-boy gestured to Blue-Eyes. "Please, continue."

Blue eyes nodded once. "...And so I..." he stopped, seeming to consider his words carefully, "I yelled at him. At Stilgar. My right hand man, my best friend, the man who saved my life. I yelled at him for something that could not have been his fault. I know he hates the Guild as much as I do. I know he didn't tell my mother about my drinking, but...I yelled at him."

"And then?"

"That night Chani confronted me about it. She...she told me I needed help, that I was letting my destiny go to my head." He turned away, a look a shame on his face. "That's why I came here."

Black-armor patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. Gun-kid nodded and said. "Wow. That's some tough shit, man."

Lightening boy smiled. "But you've come clean about that now."

Arrow boy chirped up. "Doesn't it feel good to get that off your chest?"

Blue Eyes grumbled. "No. No it does not, and do you have to be so damn cheerful all the time?! What part of this do you think is easy?!"

Arrow looked hurt. "Sorry. I was just trying to help."

"Well don't! I didn't come here for advice from some pubescent monk!"

Gun kid leaned in. "Hey lay off, alright? Aang's a Chosen One too. He knows what it's like."

Lightening Boy silenced them both with a placating gesture. "It's alright, John." He looked to Blue Eyes. "Paul, we do understand your anger, and you have a right to be angry. You wouldn't be here if it weren't for the pressures we all face. Just please consider what is the real source of your anger."

Paul glared at Lightening Boy. For a moment, The Bard wondered if this was about to turn interesting.

But before it did, Paul burst into tears.

Black Armor put a comforting hand on his back. In a deep raspy voice he said, "It's alright. Let it out..."

"Me, alright?! I'm angry at me!"

The others in the circle nodded solemnly.

"I let it get to me! I'm supposed to be the savior of the universe! My name is a Killing Word! I'm supposed to be strong! But I let it get to me..."

Aang, the arrow-tattoo boy, leaned forward again, and started to speak, but both Lightening Boy and John silenced him with an urgent look and a head-shake. He sat back, nodding. Black Armor pulled a Kleenex from a box by his chair and offered it to Paul, who took it with a grateful nod.

"We'll Give Paul time to compose himself," Lightening Boy said, then smiled at The Bard. "Everyone else want to introduce yourselves to the new guy? I'll start. I'm Harry, and I'm a chosen one." He offered his hand, which the Bard shook.

Aang raised one hand. "Hi. I'm Aang, and I'm a chosen one."

John offered his hand. "Hi. I'm John, and I'm a chosen one."

Paul quickly composed himself with a resolute look on his face. "I'm Paul. I'm a chosen one."

Black Armor raised one hand. "Hello. I am Anakin, and I am a Chosen One." Whhhhhhh pahhhhhhhh...

The Bard nodded and to follow suit. "Allo, I'm...The Bard, and I'm..." He sighed, trying to get it out. "I'm..." They stared at him, especially Lightening Boy.

He sighed, and threw up his hands. "Oh, bloody 'ell, what am I even doin' 'ere...I'm no chosen one! I ran across a dozen dead ones just in the last fortnight! I'm not real! I'm--"

The door opened, and a man with green hair and demented clown makeup leaned in tentatively. "Oh, I'm sorry."

Harry said, "Super-villains is down the hall. 143."

"Ah. Thank you, my fine funny friend." He closed the door. Harry looked back to The Bard.

He sighed. "Look. Chosen ones don't work the same way in my world. They're a lie, a manipulation."

Paul huffed. "So was I in my world. Bunch of manipulative nuns made it all up, I was just in the wrong place at the right time."

Harry gestured to the Bard, "So what brought you here then?"

"Well people believe that shyte, don't they? everywhere I go, it's Ohhh Bard, please save us from the evil wizard, and the dragon, and the vikings, and the ancient demon woman who...lies to you and...rips out yer fockin' heart..."

"Lead our people to victory." Paul said.

"Restore balance to the Cosmos." Whhhhhhh pahhhhhh...

"Live like a Navy SEAL on a mission, learn to survive nuclear war and fight armies of cyborgs." John added bitterly.

"Give us something to believe in." Aang nodded solemnly. "Be perfect for us. No time to actually grow up."

"And god help anyone who actually believes in you because they're even more buggered than you are." Harry added. "Right? Any of that sound familiar?"

The Bard sighed. "Yeah..."

Anakin offered his hand to shake. "We feel your pain."

The Bard studied the black gloved hand, then shook it. "Alright. Yeah. Hi. I'm the Bard...and I'm a Chosen One."

They all chimed in at once. "Hi, Bard!"

It was going to be a long meeting.