This chapter is really short and only serves as a way to move the plot along ad introduce Aeneid Hera. I own nothing.

The wife of Zeus was torn. Her favorite city was being rebuilt, her favored culture was being restored, and one of her personalities, that had been locked away for over two thousand years, had began to resurface.

She knew she could always go to Aesculapius to help sort this problem out, as he had a third personality, a Carthaginian, which was less inclined to help people out of sheer goodwill, but would always nether less listen.

Hera tried to remain her collected prim and proper Roman self, but as her old memories came flooding back to her she found it harder and harder to keep a cool head.

"Troy, damn them." she thought. She remembered being told that her city would be destroyed by that little Latin upstart. If only the son of Aphrodite had stayed behind with her beloved Dido, then maybe none of this would have happened, but no, Mercury and her own husband had sent Aeneas on his merry way without looking back.

She had tried to destroy Aeneas's fleet but Neptune had the seas calmed sparing Aeneas and seven of his ships.

"Forget about all of that." The queen of the gods told herself flickering between her late Greek self and Roman. She was a proud Roman goddess, had even influenced the barbaric warlord Hannibal Barca from destroying one of her temples by disguising herself as one of his own goddesses.

Hera remembered the last time she felt like all three of her personalities were at war with each other was on the twenty first of January 1793, the day the reign of terror begun and the streets of Paris had ran red with blood.

Something big was coming.

And she wouldn't let the fates steel it from her this time.

The next chapter will be longer, and in Malcolm's point of view