Right, so this doesn't follow Allan's past in the show. Then again, Allan lies, so this very well might be his true past!

Allan-A-Dale was actually Allan-A-Clementine Village. But that didn't exactly roll off the tongue. Allan was born to a peasant family in the heart of the village, and he was the apple of his mother's eye. He was a beautiful child, and with innocent, huge blue eyes, and perfect, honey-blonde hair that always stood up just a little, he was practically angelic. By the time he was four, he could charm anyone into giving him sugar, or a juicy apple, or anything else he happened to desire. But he didn't take advantage of his doting relatives or the townspeople; he didn't quite have the planning, calculating force in him. He loved to be loved, which wasn't exactly difficult for him. When people gave him an apple, he would beam up at them, genuinely grateful. He was, for lack of a better word, a sweetheart.

His father was a tradesman. He had a workshop filled with all sorts of pans and jewelry and sometimes even animals, kept in a pen outside. Allan would walk through the workshop in amazement, letting his eyes wander over and feast upon all of the intriguing items. He was particularly interested in the objects that shone. As a toddler, his eyes would grow wide as a coin flashed in the sun, and he would reach out to hold it, or put it in his mouth. His father would go out to neighboring villages to trade, and sometimes he would be gone for weeks at a time. But each time he returned, he had new objects for Allan to be fascinated by. When he made trips to the nearest village, he would bring Allan with him. He would carry him on his shoulders and call out to the villagers,

"Four year old boy! Prime of his youth! Any takers?!" A woman might hand him a necklace for a new pot, and he would pause, as if deliberating.

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather take the boy? He's strong, trust me! And quiet! A good buy!" The woman would laugh then, and Allan would scream with delight as his father threw his head back and laughed loudly. His father was always a cheerful man, at least when in the presence of his little son.

His mother, Caroline, was a very beautiful woman, and Allan had inherited his bright blue eyes from her. She was also the midwife of Clementine Village. There was nothing she enjoyed more than delivering new souls into the world. A caring woman, she genuinely loved life, and she took great joy in singing. Caroline was always very religious, and Allan's earliest memories included kneeling beside his bed, squeezing his eyes closed, praying for mum and dad, and the village and for his soon to be baby brother. Of course, these days of happiness only lasted so long.

Allan was six when his father left his mother, and his newborn little brother, Tom. He had gone out, as if to trade, but his mother cried when he left. And Caroline never cried, so Allan knew something must be terribly wrong. Allan's father never returned, and it was as if the boy's world had shattered. He never quite adjusted to life without the cheerful man, and it broke his heart when he saw how sad his mother became. She could hardly take care of Allan, be the midwife for the town, take over their father's job, and care for a newborn all on her own. She stopped smiling, she never sang, and she became thin and weary as she tried to care for their family. Caroline was desperate; fearful that she wouldn't be able to feed her family, come wintertime. Of course, the villagers were more than happy to help them, but they weren't exactly rolling in money, either. The little family managed to hold out for a year, but Allan saw how much it took out of his mother. He became determined to help his family, any way he could. It was at that point when Allan discovered how to lie.

Allan was seven, and he was a friendly child. He had a lot of friends in the village, but there was one boy he had always avoided, up till now. Henry was ten, and he was the boy that mothers didn't want their children playing with. Allan always obeyed his mother, so he had steered clear of Henry in the past. Henry lied, and he stole. Allan knew, because he had heard his mother talking to the other mothers. He knew from his mother's talks that lying was inexcusable, and stealing was even worse, but he had to wonder, where exactly was the harm in it? Henry lied, and he didn't get caught. He stole, but he wasn't struck by lightning, and no one got hurt, so what was the problem? Lying and stealing couldn't be THAT bad, right?

Allan sat under a tree at the edge of the village, thinking this dilemma through. He hugged his knees to his chest, and squinted through the light at Henry. Henry was lounging beside the baker's cottage, looking absolutely at ease. He was holding a big brown bag; probably on an errand for his mother. Allan wondered for a moment if he could look like that; so easy-going, like he didn't have a care in the world. He tried for a moment to adopt that cool stare, but then frowned to himself. No. Henry is not a good person, he convinced himself. But he continued to watch as Henry slowly stood up straight, and casually walked past the windowsill of the cottage, where two freshly baked pies sat in the sunlight. Allan didn't think anything of it until Henry was a few yards away, and he saw the windowsill again. One of the pies was gone. Leaping to his feet, Allan stared intently at Henry, but he didn't look any different. His face was still calm and cool, and his posture hadn't changed. He neatly tucked the brown bag under his arm, and walked into the trees of the forest. Allan was shocked. He had never actually seen him steal before. Surely, at any moment, the baker would run out of the house and find Henry. He would be caught. Any minute now…

But the time dragged on and Henry wasn't caught. Allan thought of what he could do with that kind of power. If he could take food for free, and not get caught…maybe his mother would smile again! Maybe she would stop worrying all the time, and sing again. Pushing the hair back from his eyes, Allan slowly walked into the forest, where he had seen Henry disappear. He hadn't gone far when he spotted the boy, savoring the delicious pie under a tree. His eyes snapped up as Allan walked towards him, his body tensed, and he seemed to assess the boy. Deciding that he was of no harm to him, he relaxed his posture.

"You need something?" he asked coarsely, while chewing on the pie. Allan stood there, biting his lip. He couldn't bring himself to ask him. It was wrong! But Henry stood up, leaving the pie on the ground, and took a step towards him.

"I said, do you need something?" He asked, his tone sounding more like a threat now.

"How do you do that?" Allan blurted out finally. Henry stopped, and raised an eyebrow at the kid.

"Do what?"

"You know…" he glanced around furtively. "Steal," he whispered. Henry stared at him for a moment, and then began to laugh. He sized up the kid in a few seconds. He had seen him around before, and the villagers loved him. No one would ever suspect innocent little Allan.

"Well…I guess I could let you in on a few secrets."