Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time.
When August W. Booth rode into Storybrooke, he had hoped that everything would play out like…well, like a fairy tale.
You know, when everything looks dark and bleak and helpless, but then the hero comes riding in on their white steed and saves the day. Then happiness and light and goodness are once more abounding.
Oh, August wouldn't be the hero in this story. He knew that he had many too many mistakes and had been too selfish for that to ever be true.
But Emma, Emma was the Savior, and she would be the hero. He had hoped that he could get her to believe, break the curse, bring magic back to this land, and he would remain a man. Nice and simple, everything finished in a few days. That had been his wish.
August knew he was no hero, no brave prince, but he had hoped, hoped, that he would get his happy ending, that his wish would come true.
That this would play out like a fairy tale.
As the wood crept over his face, constricting his breathing, blocking his sight, he realized that he had forgotten one very important thing:
Fairy tales didn't happen in the real world.
A/N: Thanks for reading everyone and please review!
