Zoe Nightshade needs more love. She was such as awesome character! As I was reading The Titans Curse last night (or rather, this morning, it being 1 am) I was thinking she got very comfortable with Percy near the end of the book, and since Aphrodite had just said how she would make Percy's love life a mess I got a-thinkin'.


I promised myself that after Hercules I would never get involved with another man. That, ultimately, is why I joined the Hunters. I would never have to marry, never have to grow older, and never even have to interact with another male again. Hercules hurt me, to put it lightly. Oh, how I expected our future to be. I thought he would sweep me away to a fantasy, to a dream, of a life. I thought we would marry, him and I, my strong, handsome husband and I. I thought I could finally be noticed by the public when I aided him on his quest. But alas, he did not have such desires. He abandoned me on that mountain. When my sisters found out what I had done they were consumed with fury. They tossed me away from my home, erasing me from the family. When I was offered to join the Hunters, I agreed without a second thought. A life without men. That was my dream now.

It worked for two thousand years, until I was forced into cooperation with him. Upon first meeting him, I knew that I felt something, a feeling, that I had felt for Hercules. I convinced myself it was the burning hatred I'd felt after he left me. I convinced myself that the boy had the same arrogance, same deceitfulness, of the dead hero. That only a male with the same horrid character could wield Anaklusmos, the weapon that destroyed my life.

Still, the feeling I had felt didn't seem to fit into simple loathing, and I suppose part of me knew it. The feeling I had scared me, I believe. That is why I went to extra lengths to avoid him. I knew at the time that he would be a wiser addition to our group then the satyr, but the idea of having him around, fighting, fighting the same fights I would, filled me with dread.

I soon had to face, however, that I wanted to see more and more of him. I enjoyed talking with him. He seemed to truly understand what I went through. He didn't defend Hercules of say that it didn't matter. I began to notice tiny things, like how his kind, sea-green eyes sparkled in the sun. Or how his black hair ever-so-slightly got in his eyes. Or how his soft hands gripped the sword with such confidence. He was strong, he was brave, yet still courteous.

Oh, how I tried to resist these emotions. He is a boy! I told myself. You are a huntress. He is nothing to you. But how he treated me, how he treated his friends, made it hard for me to believe that I had to lose all faith in the male gender. I knew how my heart skipped when he touched me. I knew the tinge of envy I felt when he spoke of his friend Annabeth. I knew how the idea of him fighting Ladon and loosing horrified me to no end.

And now, as I lay in this field with both the blow from my father and the poison in my side eating away at my last hints of life, he is watching me. He is watching me with the same concern he gave to his friend when she disappeared. I am no longer scared. Finally, I know that the feeling that reminded of Hercules was not hatred, but the admiration. I want to tell him, but I hadn't the energy. Though I denied it for this entire journey, I can indulge myself in this one thought before I die.

Perseus Jackson, I love thee.