Hey Readers. Thanks for the Reviews. I will try to incorporate the suggestions I received in my next chapter, as this one focuses primarily on Hitler and his past, it doesn't have much interaction with the main characters of the show. Hopefully, in this chapter everyone can gain some understanding to why he is the way he is. This is a OUaT fic and I think we all know that in OUaT evil isn't born, it's made.
So strap into your seats everyone, because in the grand tradition of Once Upon A Time, it's sad back story time.
A Long Time Ago (because if the show isn't going to bother making a consistent timeline, neither am I).
A young man of about eighteen, fitted with the same black and white color scheme as the street surrounding him, fiddled idly with a thorny rose in his hands. He stared longingly at the woman not a few meters away, daring himself to go over to her.
She was tall and slim, with chocolate brown locks and surrounded by the Christmas paraphernalia Adolf thought that in the two years he had pined for her, she had never looked more beautiful than right now. He shook his head knowing that he would think the same thing tomorrow, for every time he saw her he was taken back by her attractiveness and found that his memories did not do her justice.
Stefanie Rabatsch. The girl of his dreams. Tomorrow he would talk to her. Yes, tomorrow would be the day he would make his move, brushing aside all those conceited block headed officers who usually flirted with her. She would not care that she was of a different social class to him or that he was a few years younger, their love would be strong enough to overcome that, that he knew.
Sighing he dropped the lone rose to the ground and made his way down the street. He should know better then to dawdle. His beloved mother was sick. Breast cancer. Despite the surgery, the doctors did not think she had long to live and the thought hurt young Adolf more then anything else ever had. More then the thought of rejection by Stefanie, more then his recent failure to pass the entrance exam to the Academy of Fine Arts and his disappointing return home from Vienna.
His mother Klara was an amazing person. Kind and sweet, forever doting on him and trying to protect him from his brute of a father, Alois. He hadn't felt anything when Alois died except bitterness that he hadn't been a better father but just the thought of losing his mother made the young man shake with sadness.
He had been committed to helping his mother recover. He moved her bed to the kitchen, the warmest area of the house and did majority of the cooking and cleaning for her. He even set the Christmas tree beside her bed so she could gaze upon it whenever she wanted. She loved Christmas.
Arriving home Adolf went about his chores and applied the iodoform to her ulcers, in a desperate attempt to save her life at least prolong her death until after Christmas. Unfortunately though, in the early hours of the 21st of December, Klara Hitler took her final breaths in the shadows of the light from the Christmas tree.
Adolf was distraught. The doctor, a Jewish man to whom Adolf was forever grateful, so much so that he spared his life during his purge on this Land Without Color, said he had never seen a person so affected by a death as Adolf was. He felt things more deeply then most and it was a burden he was forced to live with.
After that Adolf made a promise to himself. He would become someone his mother would be proud of. He would return to Vienna and retake the entrance exam to the Academy. He would become the great artist the was destined to be.
Present Day
Adolf awoke from his nap. It was a common dream that he felt destined to relive for the rest of his life. His life had not been an easy one but he knew that no matter what else happened to him, no period of time in his life could possibly be worse then that Christmas.
The German shook his head, knowing that his dreams of artistry were never really achieved. The country was too overtaken for him to find any success. Their corrupt ways stopped any Aryans from achieving success. Soon he had devoted himself to the cleansing of the World Without Color, trying to make a place where no one would be forced to spend their days like he was, and after that his plans were over thrown by people who's minds were already infested by propaganda. Finally, a curse ripped him away and now, here he sat wondering if in Storybrooke he could find some sort of redemption. Maybe just maybe.
For those wondering Hitlers past is not an invention of mine but a dramatic retelling of the actual Hitler's young adult years.