Perseus Jackson

His fist clenches, the wind picking up for a split second before dying down again. He stares at his home, the inside lighting up with torches as the voices of the many suitors inside his home echo in the night. His hand reaches for his sword, waiting for the moon to be swallowed by the clouds. It’s been 3 months since he left for home.

In those 3 months hundreds of suitors overtook his palace, each one more vile than the last as they fought for his wife’s hand in marriage. They thought he was dead, rejoicing with wine and bread as they wait for his wife to crack under the pressure. He slips into the dark, putting out one of the torches as he goes unnoticed.

He continues this process, locking all the exits, blowing out all the torches in each room that wasn’t occupied as he keeps out of sight. Finally the moon is fully covered by the clouds, a pitch black stretching across the surrounding hallways as the torches do little to light up the dining room most of the suitors decided to converge in. He grips his sword tightly, methodically killing suitors in the darkness. This is his home, how dare they try to claim his home as theirs and attempt to marry his wife.