A/N: Uh... hi guys *waves awkwardly* If you're getting some deja vu that means you were one of 100 readers who read this story originally! Yay! If not, ignore this message. So, this is actually a repost of a story I started publishing about two years ago. A few days after I started writing this story, I had to change my lifestyle completely. Long story short, I went from a gallery artist to an investment banker. When I moved and changed jobs, it killed all the creativity in me and completely destroyed the artist that I was before. Recently, I quit my crappy banking job and became a museum curator (dream come true!) and I decided to come back to this story. It's bigger, better, proofread, and better than ever :)

Prologue

Zelena had always been driven by two things and two things only: passion and revenge. Her entire existence had been marked by hatred and regret, and like a birthmark, she took it with her everywhere she went. All of those misplaced searches for acceptance by someone, anyone became a type of misguided passion that fueled the anger, rage, and envy swirling within her. As the years went by any sense of compassion slowly dissolved into cynicism, eventually evolving into something darker, more sinister. She wanted nothing more than to have everyone else feel what she has been forced to live with her whole life. This desire slowly culminating until it reached a point where she wasn't simply craving it, she fed off it. She was angry at Cora for her selfishness, angry at Regina for getting everything she always wanted but could never have, angry at Rumplestiltskin for deceiving her, but most of all she was angry at herself for allowing herself to fall victim to all of this in the first place. Not even she could articulate when this anger became a type of madness, but nonetheless here she was, burning with an ineffable obsession with vengeance and destruction.

She looked up at the cracked mirror hanging above her leaky sink.

"Bloody pathetic," she berated to no one in particular.

She let herself be bested by a one handed pirate, but worse, she let herself be bested by Regina. Not this time. This time she knew exactly what she needed to do. She slowly traced the edge of the sink, the aged porcelain smooth under her fingers, before plugging the drain and cranking up the hot water. The steam rose and obscured the woman staring back at her in the mirror, leaving nothing more than a distorted mess of dull colors to bear witness to her pending maleficence. Grabbing the satchel hanging from the side of the bathtub, she sprinkled a few pinches of what looked to be a multicolored herb into the makeshift cauldron. She quickly tossed in a few more ingredients before taking a step back to admire the bubbling mess inside the nearly overflowing sink.

"This was much more… climactic when I had a castle," she mused to no one in particular, but with desperate times comes desperate measures, and this could most certainly be considered an ultimate act of desperation.

While her own magic had been stripped by her Rumple and her sister, she had found a way to tap into the ancient art of potions and incantations. Conjuring spells were never her strong suit, but she knew this one like the back of her hand. More than once she had depended on his magic to assist with her more complicated schemes. She was wary of him at first, unsure which side he truly belonged to. Perhaps it was this ambiguity that made him so powerful in the first place. Regardless, he had always been a dependable ally. Even if he didn't want to help her for the sake of helping her, he could never say no to the prospect of dream manipulation. If all went to plan, there was no way Regina would be able to escape. They said that it is in dreams where one finds strength. The lesser known second half to that is it is also in dreams where one's greatest vulnerabilities are revealed.

Suddenly, the room around her began to shake. The sharp clink of the bottles and vials sitting along the tub shattering the previously peaceful silence. A low rumble erupted from below the ground as a dark mist inundated the room. She felt her excitement rise as the telltale purple haze began to settle around her. The temperature of the room dropped dramatically as the light bulbs popped one by one, transforming the room into a cold, dark dungeon. A flash of light brought in a moment of life before the smoke settled quickly, revealing at first glance, what seemed to be some odd mix between an elf and an imp. He was small in size, but his face lacked the geniality that elves so often carried. His initial look of confusion morphed into a knowing smile that accentuated the cracks in his wrinkled face.

"My my… if it isn't… Zelena, is it?" The impish creature stretched carefully, taking a precarious step forward, his movements slow and deliberate. "Why, I haven't seen you since your little stunt down in the poppy fields."

He hopped experimentally on one foot then the other, testing his strength and balance, before letting out a slightly crazed laugh and taking a few careful steps toward her.

"Oh, we had such fun that day, didn't we?" The insane glint in his eye became more pronounced when paired with his cheshire smile. "How can I be of service?"

"I thought you'd never ask." For the first time since she had been locked away in the sleepy little town in the middle of Maine, Zelena smiled. Everything finally seemed to be falling into place. The Sandman had been the last piece of the puzzle. "Remember Dorothy?"

"Who could forget?" A knowing grin spread across his face as he swung his sack of sand around whimsically.

"Wonderful"