𝐏𝐘𝐑𝐑𝐇𝐈𝐂 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧

i. birthday wishes

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

ELIA PLANTED A TREE.

It seemed sort of dumb, and might not have been the best decision because she did not possess a green thumb whatsoever, but she'd gone to a garden store in mid-August and she'd bought a willow sapling. Then, she'd returned to camp and asked Aurora De Medici how to grow a tree.

With help from Aurora, the Demeter Cabin, and a little bit of godly magic, within a month a towering willow tree stood in a secluded corner of the beach, right along the edge of the woods. It was a perfect spot, really, with a view of the lake and a good amount of sunlight. Elia and her siblings buried Lee Fletcher's ashes there.

Elia now spent a majority of her time beneath that tree. At first it might've been a grief thing, being closer to her big brother and all that, but slowly it became more of a habit. She ate lunch there, leaning against the trunk. She struggled through reading books to Bowie, Blair, and Marisol there. Before Annabeth left for the school year, she sat with the daughter of Athena there. She hung out with Adira, Malachi, and Aurora there, listening to them bicker and laughing with them.

August passed in a flash, golden and adjusting, and September set in. Elia found herself sitting against her willow tree, a blanket beneath her and her guitar in her lap as the sunrise stretched across the horizon. The growing light painted the sky in shades of gold and blue, reflecting off the water like a mirrorball. Her fingers danced over the strings of her instrument in second-nature, creating a soft, lulling melody that sounded like stolen glances and soft sighs.

Sleep was foreign to her now. Nightmares plagued her, memories of her time wandering the Labyrinth alone, of the sharp, black shadows consuming her, of her brother dropping to the ground, dead. She avoided sleep as much as she could, opting for power naps and coffee and early mornings beneath the tree, like now.

"Happy Birthday, Elle," a voice said behind her, warm and comforting.

She didn't look up from her guitar, but her lips curled at the corners. Michael moved to plop down beside her, his shoulder pressed against hers, and they sat there for a while. A breeze ruffled the branches of the tree, bringing the scent of morning dew and fresh earth, and Elia let out a soft breath, music flowing from her fingertips. After a moment, her fingers stalled on the frets and she stared out at the water.

"Do you think he would be proud of me?" It was probably a stupid question, but she asked anyway.

Michael looked over at her, tilting his head a fraction. His brown hair gleamed in the soft morning light. "I know he would."

She met his gaze, her mouth curving into a soft smile. "I love you." Her fingers curled into the sign. She'd started to say it more often, to everyone that was important. It felt right.

He grinned, a warm thing that filled the hole in her chest. "I love you more."

After a while, he stood, pressing his lips to the top of her head in a way that was so similar to Lee that it made her want to cry, and for a moment, all she could see was dimpled grins and golden hair. Michael left, walking back toward the cabins for breakfast, the new-morning sun lighting his figure like it always did. Their father always did love to shine a little extra glow on his children.

For a moment, Elia smiled. The sun felt a little warmer on her skin that morning, shining down like it was wishing her a happy birthday. Apollo had visited her shortly after the Battle of the Labyrinth, as it had been dubbed, appearing by her side when her willow was still young and frail.