I’m teaching a live webinar soon on Using Tropes Effectively in Your Genre Fiction, and let me tell you, the details matter more than you think. Whether you’re writing a young adult romantasy or a space opera with political intrigue, understanding how your tropes operate make the difference between a story that resonates and one that falls flat. 

Tropes are more than vibes. They enhance (and shape) your story arc. Get them wrong, and even good ideas can fall apart. 

Today I’m doing a deep dive on the Chosen One vs. the Secret Heir. But first, I’d love it if you check out my class on August 19. You can learn more here. It’s totally free (and you do not have to have an Orange County Library card to attend). I will be discussing all kinds of tropes: enemies to lovers, found family, and the chosen one vs. the secret heir. 

Spoiler alert: they are not the same.

So what’s the difference between the Chosen One and the Secret Heir? 

We’re all familiar with the Chosen One. The humble orphan or overlooked outcast who turns out to be the only person who can save the kingdom. But the best Chosen One arcs dig deeper than prophecy fulfillment. They explore struggles readers feel every day, like imposter syndrome (why me?) and reluctance (I never asked for this). Ultimately, the Chosen One must overcome pressure. You know, because the fate of the world rests on their shoulders. Knowing that, writers should be making sure that a chosen one’s emotional core revolves around identity and resistance. The character doesn’t start with power; they start with burden (and only later find empowerment through acceptance).

The Chosen One didn’t choose their fate, but they do chose what to do with it. They start with the burden of destiny and end with an ownership of purpose. 

The Secret Heir is very different. This trope is rooted in belonging. This character doesn’t fulfill a prophecy; they challenge corruption, oftentimes by dethroning imposters. They were born with the right to do it, but not fated to do so. In fact, the odds are stacked against them. They are raised in obscurity, unaware of their royal bloodline, but they feel off. Discovering themselves–and their true identity–lines up with power and the chance to rewrite the rules that have suppressed them (and others). Revenge and rebellion are core themes here. It’s not about becoming what the world needs, but rather about remembering who you’ve always been. Then, deciding what kind of ruler you’ll become. 

So why do these differences matter?

Let’s look at the Timely Death trilogy. It’s my best personal example of what happens when you lean into the differences between the Chosen One and the Secret Heir in order to enhance a story. 

In Minutes Before Sunset, Eric–the descendant of the Dark–is born knowing he’s destined to fight to the death against the descendent of the Light. He doesn’t question it at first. It’s fate. Legacy. War. But as he falls in love, he begins to see the prophecy for what it is: a cruel burden forced on a child by the adults who are failing him. Eric is the Chosen One, not because he wants to be, but because the world won’t let him be anything else. His arc is about resisting destiny and carving agency from inevitability. 

Jessica–his orphaned love interest–is very different. She returns to the small town where she was born with no memory of her past. Then her suppressed powers awaken. She quickly discovers her existence is the key to unravelling the prophecy entirely. Her forbidden magic, hidden lineage, and long-lost ties to the supernatural world position her as the Secret Heir. She throw the entire system off balance. Her journey isn’t about fulfilling prophecy; it’s about realizing who she is and rewriting the story she was never supposed to be a part of. 

By bringing these two tropes together in a meaningful way, I was able to explore complementary emotional arcs: one shaped by legacy, the other discovery. But if I hadn’t been thoughtful about their core differences, the Chosen One and the Secret Heir could’ve blurred together. Their journeys would’ve lacked contrast. Their tension could’ve fizzled. And worst of all, neither character would’ve challenged the other to grow. 

That said, sometimes a character can be both. A popular example would be from The Inheritance Cycle by Christopher Paolini. Eragon is a farm boy turned dragon rider (chosen) who discovers his noble/magical ancestry (heir). If you are going to combine, it’s important to space out the reveals so that the trope itself has room to breathe. 

Want to learn more?

If this post got your wheels turning, I’d love to see you at my live class on Using Tropes Effectively in Genre Fiction. We’ll cover found families, enemies to lovers, and so much more. Save your spot here. 

See you there!

In the meantime, tell me in the comments: who is your protagonist? The Chosen One or the Secret Heir? 

~SAT

Minutes Before Sunset is perfect for fans of Vampire Academy, The Raven Boys, & Beautiful Creatures. Read for free.