A/N: The final one. Are you ready for the obnoxiously long author note? First of all, I'm so sad that this is over. I'll be able to focus a larger portion of my attention on my other stories, though, so if you want more StarlitReader... (By the way, I've officially archived over 25,000 words on this site. Hooray!)

Second, thankyouthankyouthankyou to all my reviewers: xFireStarx, AtheisticPokemon, PeetaPercyFANGirl, iBelonginoz, larkgrace, SmartyPants1493, AnnabethChaserocks, maximilian7, Pop97, iluvfantasy, Chetlee, Surliat, percabeth4evr, p3paula, ReadrOfBooks, Unsuspected, WiseGirl393, Bobeara, highfivingjesus, filmyflurry, TheGirlWithHerHeadInTheClouds, I-luv-Aang-Percy-Danny, PureAwesomeness13, Lauren Tobias, pjoftw111, SweetDragonSeeker, zeynel, Taylor Celeste, Shorty and KG Inc., Cherry Louise, kitty-whiskers, Owl of the Sea, In the Closet FanFic Reader, Eleos, horseyfan, pin feather, and all the anonymous reviewers out there. Phew, that took a while to type. You are the source of my motivation and inspiration, and I can't thank all of you enough.

This last oneshot is called Zeal, in which Annabeth reflects on Percy and her relationship with him. Some dark themes present at the very end, but it's mostly romance and sadness. Hope you like it- please remember to leave your thoughts!

Whatever Percy did, he did it with heart. (PercyxAnnabeth)

Zeal

If there was one word that described Percy, she decided, it was zealous. Energy, bravery, devotion—all the qualities that made Percy, Percy were enveloped in that little word.

It had started early, or so she'd heard. She didn't know Percy before that first summer, that first quest, but from what Grover told her, he'd always been the one to stand up for people. Outcasts, nerds, "cripples" like Grover had pretended to be—none of that mattered to Percy. As cliché as it sounded, he only cared about what was on the inside. Why should he hang out with the cool, mean kids when that perfectly nice dork was sitting alone over there? He was noble, too. Always sacrificing himself (even if, at the time, it was only his middle school social status) for others, the lovable idiot.

As much as she'd disliked—despised—him at the start of that fateful summer, she could never deny that he was loyal or good-hearted. The poor kid had seemed so heartbroken when he thought his mom died, but he never gave up hope. Incredible, really. (And a bit insane, but what was Percy if not slightly crazy?) And on the quest—Percy never abandoned his friends. He came back for them on the bus with the Furies. He got them all out of the Lotus casino. He saved them from Procrustes and left his own mother behind in the Underworld to get Annabeth and Grover to safety. There wasn't a single time that first summer that he didn't put others before himself.

Their second quest had been the same. She'd gotten so close to him then—floating around on a boat by yourselves for a few days tends to do that to you. The entire time, he never stopped believing that they'd find Grover. His hope made her believe, too. His energy was infectious—you couldn't help but feel what he was feeling.

And how could she forget the time he'd journeyed across the country to save her? Yes, and Artemis, but knowing Percy, he was probably only thinking of her. She hadn't heard all the details of the quest, but she knew that he went through hell. He held up the sky. He stopped at nothing to rescue her. And that sweet, awkward dance on Mount Olympus made her smile every single time it crossed her mind.

Then the summer came, and everything changed. The air was more charged between them, and she found herself thinking about him more and more. She could still remember so vividly the way it felt when he held her, the day she got the prophecy. And the way it felt to think that he was dead. How could she have left him? Let him sacrifice himself for her? Honestly, she'd never expected her first kiss to be like that. But he returned, and they were together again, even if he had been with that—ugh. She remembered the wild arguments they had, with Percy always saying that he didn't want her to get hurt, and her always retorting that she could take care of herself, thank you very much. She remembered the way he spoke afterwards—soft and gentle, apologetic—and the way her heart couldn't help but melt and break a little bit more, like a chocolate bar in the sun.

The next summer was wild, unpredictable, unsteady, terrifying. They were in the midst of a war, but that was only half of it. Percy was almost sixteen—just a few, horribly short weeks from—from dying. Even if he wasn't the child of the prophecy, that would simply mean he had died before he could fulfill it. There was no escape—Percy would be gone by the end of the summer. She couldn't bear it, couldn't allow herself to think of it, and yet it was constantly on her mind. How could it not be? But the days flew by, and that brave Seaweed Brain kept fighting, fighting towards the death he didn't even know about. She teetered on the brink of a breakdown, emotions she'd never felt before unbalancing her. She should enjoy his presence, love him, while she could. No, no, the other part of her cried, she should keep away, save herself the pain.

The last week of the war was a blur. She remembered the fight in the strawberry fields, then searching for him when he wasn't there in the morning. The phone call, and going to Olympus. Finding out that he had taken on the curse. Days and days of battle. Taking the knife for him, and their conversation on the balcony. She was pretty sure she'd called him cute. More fighting followed, and then suddenly they were in the throne room. Fighting Kronos. On Percy's sixteenth birthday. She fought as much as she could, praying that he would make the right choice, hoping foolishly that there was some way he could survive. And he did, against all odds. She remembered being named the official architect of Olympus, and then—and then Percy turned down immortality for her. That night, their first kiss when one of them wasn't about to die, was one of the best of her life.

Everything was perfect. And then, of course, the worst possible thing happened. He vanished—gone, without a trace. She searched frantically, not finding anything. Jason brought the news—her Seaweed Brain was at the Roman camp, in danger, and without any of his memories. He wouldn't remember his past, his friends, his family—or his girlfriend. She cried that night like she'd never cried before. She threw herself into the preparations, and eventually they reached him. And he remembered. Not everything, but he knew her.

Throughout that second war, he fought tirelessly. Nothing could extinguish his energy - he was so brave, fearless… he kept all of them going. He told them to never give up, to remember that they were all true warriors. He was invincible, an unstoppable force, and—he died for her.

He died for her.

He.

Died.

For.

Her.

And what could she do but follow?

~fin~