Luke Castellan kicked the base of Zeus' Fist forcefully, muttering a slew of curses under his breath. He was past worrying about the wrath of the gods. In fact, he hoped they would kill him for his disrespect. Anything, even death, would be better than the huge void in his gut that he felt whenever he remembered that Thalia was dead, and that it was his fault. He had left her to die. Left her at the hands of too many monsters for even the two of them to handle and run off like the coward he was. But as angry as he was at himself, he was even angrier with the gods. He felt like punching Zeus in the face, because obviously, if he could manage to conjure up a crummy pine tree, he could have saved Thalia's life.

But Zeus couldn't be bothered. His own daughter's life meant nothing to him.

Luke wished that Thalia's life had meant little to him, but unfortunately that was not the case. Even Annabeth, a second grader, was coping better than he was, making new friends in the Athena cabin, raiding the Big House library, carrying on philosophical discussions with Chiron… While Luke paced around, angry and guilty and feeling utterly disgusted with the whole of existence. He wandered through the woods until he came upon the amphitheatre, rows of stone steps framing a familiar blonde head. He jogged over, putting on a fake smile. The little girl was seated with a huge book in her lap, which must have weighed as much as or more than her seven-year-old frame. Her hair fell down in front of her face, obscuring it completely.

"Hey, Princess!" Luke said, reaching to lift Annabeth's chin. The nickname suited her, with wide, long-lashed, gray eyes and perfectly silky golden ringlets falling nearly to her waist—at least, they had been perfectly silky. Now they were hopelessly matted.

Thalia had always brushed Annabeth's hair.

"Doing some light reading?" he began to chuckle good-naturedly, but a glance at her face stopped him. Her eyes were swollen and her cheeks streaked with tears. "What's up?" he asked, his tone at once serious and reassuring.

A normal child might have whimpered or whined, but Annabeth, wise and mature beyond her years, looked him straight in the eye, raised her brows slightly, and asked in a flat tone, "Luke, why is Thalia dead?"

The words hit him in the chest as if he had been punched, but he smiled weakly at her. "Come here, princess," he murmured, and scooped her onto his lap effortlessly. Startled by the gesture of affection, she melted into tears on his chest. He kissed the top of her head softly. "… it's okay. Everything's gonna be alright," he lied easily and blatantly. Normally, Annabeth would have caught him on it immediately. She did not appreciate it when her elders softened the truth for her, and it was obvious that nothing could ever be all right again, because Thalia was dead. And then she was brutally murdered by monsters, and turned into a pine tree for the rest of eternity. The end.

After a few moments, Annabeth pulled away and looked at him seriously. "It's my fault," she said in a voice that allowed for no doubt.

Luke was surprised, to say the least. How in the world could this possibly be her fault? She was a child, he had been the oldest among the three of them. She wasn't the one responsible. He was.

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is! I'm little, but I'm not stupid. I slowed you down. You would have gotten to camp a lot faster if you hadn't been looking after me..." The look on her face was certain, her tone unquestioning. "No!" Luke said fiercely. "How could it be your fault!?"

Annabeth stared at the ground, pursing her lips and worrying with the edge of her shirt in her small hands.

"Look at me." Luke commanded. "It. Is. Not. Your. Fault. We chose to bring you along, and you didn't slow us down at all. If you hadn't been with us, we would've all been killed by that Cyclops. And neither Thalia or I would ever have met you, and I know Thalia wouldn't have wanted to miss out on know ing you."

"You don't know that…"

"Yes, I do. Look at me." He turned her face toward himself vehemently. "Would I lie to you?"

She hesitated, than shook her head slowly. Her expression relaxed, her eyes looking less like steel and more like mist. If there was one thing she knew, it was that she could trust Luke.

"Good girl. Now, go and get your hairbrush, we have got to do something about this rat's nest." He made a face, which served the intended purpose of eliciting a giggle.

"Okay," she said, satisfied.

He half smiled as he watched her sprint towards the cabin. He had failed at taking care of Thalia, but he promised himself he would always be there for Annabeth. She needed someone to depend on, after her jerk father basically let her run away and her closest friend had died. He wouldn't let her be crippled with the self-doubt and guilt he felt every day.

And Luke needed someone to care about, too.