It was the eighteenth of August when Luke died.

The weather was clear, and sweet, and sunny, and absolutely wrong in so many ways for that day. It was also peaceful – quiet. Which, in Manhattan, did not make any sense whatsoever. If it weren't for the fact that it was the day of the Prophecy, the sixteenth birthday of a child of the Big Three, and the final battle for Olympus, it would have been all over the news that New York, the city that never sleeps, was sleeping – in the middle of the day.

But on the 600th floor of the Empire State Building, Mt. Olympus, the silence hung so thick you could cut it with a knife. It was the throne room of the Gods. Luke, Annabeth, Grover and Percy were the only ones there, and none of them said anything as he lay in Annabeth's arms, life slowly seeping from his battered body.

He was trembling. He was weeping. He was weeping for himself, for what he could have been. Annabeth was crying too, and Luke thought he saw Percy swallow and wipe his cheeks furiously.

Weep for yourself my man,

You'll never be what is in your heart

He felt so weak. He felt weaker than he had ever felt before. He could feel the last remaining shred of strength leak through his wounds, and knew that he didn't have long. The only thought that dared to cross his mind was the fact that this was it. This was the way he'd die. It wasn't anything like he'd pictured it. When he was young, and happy, and the world still made sense, Luke had always thought he'd die a hero. Not ashamed, and sad, and mournful for all the things he could have been, all the experiences he could have shared, had he not chosen this path of murder.

Weep Little Lion Man,

You're not as brave as you were at the start

How could he have been so blind? How could he have not seen that everything he had ever wanted, ever needed, was right there, in front of him? He had friends, a home, a family. Luke had thought, he thought that he knew that this was the right path for him, that he had made the right choice, but he was so weak he couldn't even recognize that his heart belonged with Camp Half Blood, with Annabeth and Thalia and Percy. It was only now the realization dawned on him that he had never belonged with Kronos – he had become a monster. A shell of what he once was, and it was only now that he realized he would never be what he truly wanted to be. He never was.

He felt so small. So scared. He didn't feel as brave and as powerful now. Maybe he never really was. Mere hallucinations, that's what it was. Luke had always been a coward, right from the start. He hadn't wanted power; he had wanted to be accepted, to belong, yet he had mistaken it for control and power. Certainly he didn't feel as brave now, as the Underworld rose to claim him. Hopefully Hades would have mercy.

Rate yourself and rake yourself

And take all the courage you have left

Anyone could do what they wanted now. Kill him, torture him, he didn't care. No matter how frightened he was, Luke knew that he deserved everything they wanted to throw at him. Minutes before his death, he would have to scrounge himself and prune himself to gather his remaining courage, to do something he should have done a long time ago. Everyone thought of him with disgust now – he was pathetic, pitiful. Looking back on himself, with the first clear eyes in too long, he could only do so with the same disgust and loathing.

Wasted on fixing all the problems that you made in your own head

It was too hard, too hard he realized as Annabeth's tears splashed onto his cheeks, mingling with his own as he cried for himself. Percy was crying freely now too. He was entirely devoid of all bravery and courage, a lost soul who needed to find where he belonged. It was so ironic to know that he had it, and gave it all up just for more. There was nothing wrong with his life before. He had created all his problems himself, laid them out for him. It was his fault only that he had to die this way, and no-one else was to blame.

Luke was so contortedly lost in his own madness, he painted everything out to be so much more worse than it actually ever was. All his reasons for leaving, for betraying the only people who ever treated him with respect, all of them were inside his own head. Make-believe, nonsense. Unjustified.

He had wasted his life trying to make it better. And it was never really any better in the first place. He just thought it was. He would take it all back as Annabeth cups his cheek, and he talks to them softly, to Percy, asking him for the knife.

But it was not your fault but mine

And it was your heart on the line

I really fucked it up this time,

Didn't I, my dear?

Didn't I, my dear...

Luke had caused the loss of so many lives. Lives of innocents, of people who never deserved to die, all because he had drawn out this unrealistic image for himself, just to satiate his only desire for satisfaction. He wanted so desperately to place the blame on someone, shove it onto some other poor soul, but he knew that he alone was the only one at fault here. He was the one who had placed so many lives on the line, merely to satisfy his own desires. He had put Annabeth's life on the line, hadn't he?

I really messed up, didn't I, Annabeth?

Tremble for yourself my man,

You know that you have seen this all before

Tremble Little Lion Man

You'll never settle any of your score

And when Annabeth softly told him that she loved him like a brother, Luke accepted the fact his time was almost up. Guilt still flooded his body, still managed to crawl into every corner of his exhausted mind. He felt so awful for having fallen into the trap he once swore he would never fall into. Luke had heard of heroes and past-demigods who betrayed everyone they loved, for and joined the fight against the gods. He remembered promising that no matter what it came to, he would always fight for what was right. But he broke his promise, and history was repeating itself again. The villain of the myths, the traitor and the bad guy, it was him. It had always been him.

Percy handed him the dagger, slowly, and he took it with a trembling hand. He trembled because he was scared. He would never be able to undo the wrongs he had done, never be able to settle his score, and after he did what he needed to do, it would only be a matter of accepting his fate, and whatever death decided was his trial. If it was the Fields of Punishment, then so be it. He'd lost his chance to set things right.

But he could at least do his best in his final moments.

Weep for yourself my man,

You'll never be what is in your heart

He was crying as he felt Kronos's hold over him slowly loosen.

He was a Little Lion Man. He always wanted to be bigger, better, something he wasn't.

He wanted to be King of the Jungle. He wanted to be fierce, and get revenge on everyone he thought had ever done him wrong.

But he was small and feeble and succumbed to his weakness from the start.

Weep Little Lion Man

You're not as brave as you were at the start

He had screwed up his life, and made many others suffer in the process. He had really messed up, selfishly risking others for his own sake.

He was a Little Lion Man.

But maybe he would make amends with this final act, he thought, as he plunged the dagger into his side.

But it was not your fault but mine

And it was your heart on the line

I really fucked it up this time

Didn't, I my dear?

Didn't, I my dear...

A/N. So this is the first chapter in a while. I had fun doing this. It was a request from HollyLeaf6, and they have great taste in music! I love this song, and every other Mumford and Sons song. Hopefully I did it justice. If it wasn't what you wanted, PM me and I'll be happy to do it again!

Anyway, please review and send in your requests! Anything is great. Remember, it can be a prompt, or an idea, or a song you'd like me to base it off, and it doesn't have to be by the artists I recommended. Basically, anything at all you want! I don't mind!

Hope you enjoyed it

~Franki