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The Spring Seeding Ceremony was the most affluent one of all the seasons. Summer’s Ceremony was nigh unbearable in temperature as the garden sweltered under the hot sun. It was also the busiest generally as so many bloomed in late Spring and early Summer. Fall’s Ceremony was always accompanied by a feast that attracted the commoners in droves, and Winter’s Ceremony was a lonely affair as the garden lay dormant, blanketed under a layer of snow.
Spring, however, was the first one of the year. It was the most grand, the most opulent, with the Eternal Garden in full bloom, showcasing the best and brightest flower blossoms. For all of the land, Spring was the desired time to participate in the Seeding Ceremony. It was considered fortuitous for anyone whose flower’s petals emerged after Winter and in time for the Spring Seeding Ceremony, for most couldn’t control when their flower would bloom.
The Drakes, however, were always Spring bloomers. It was a carefully cultivated technique that each Drake Matriarch passed down to their successor. They ensured their children followed the only acceptable rite of passage– the Spring Ceremony. Drake flowers always bloomed in early March, signaling the next Drake was ready to be presented and take part in the Seeding Ceremony.
Timothy Drake had grown up watching his mother as she proudly held her respected position as a member of the group of elite matriarchs that tended the Eternal Garden. Janet Drake had come from a long line of protectors, and she set clear expectations for her son. The male Drake heir was to find a Bonded to continue the line.
The first day of March after Tim turned twenty was the day his flower bloomed in the garden. Janet stroked his cheek, her voice filled with pride. “It’s time,” she’d said, “to fulfill your destiny. The Seeding Ceremony will let your flower bloom. We’ll see which family is set to join ours or, if you receive a white flower, we’ll find the perfect successor for me.”
All Tim’s Seeding Ceremony meant to his mother was a chance for her successor to be found. Tim’s own desires for a bonded partner, his dreams of having a soulmate, a friend, were inconsequential next to his mother’s goals. Tim knew his place in the world, knew to not have any expectations outside those his mother set for him.
The day of the Spring Ceremony, dressed in a custom blue suit in the same shade as the Drake crest, he picked up his Seed from the silver tray it’d been presented on. It was such a small thing, he observed, holding it between his thumb and pointer finger. All the seeds looked the same, the size of his fingernail, light brown, hard shell, no scent or taste…But each seed had the potential to be unique.
The seeds would connect to the innate magic within a person, pull from the Eternal Garden around them, and find their best option for bonding. Most flowers came up as a simple white daisy, indicating an unmet common soulmate. Sometimes it’d be colored, indicating a commoner that the person had met before. A flower blooming out as a specific variety that matched one of the Elite Matriarch House Crests however was the best outcome.
If a young girl bloomed an Elite House flower, she’d be whisked away and set for life.
All Tim wanted was to survive this day. Perhaps if he could do this right, his mother would finally forgive him for not being born a girl. He could bond with someone that could train with her, and maybe if he was very lucky, would still want to be his friend.
He gave the sturdy seed a final look, then unable to delay any longer, he placed it on his tongue. He’d known the expectations, trained for this day– none of that mattered though and he still felt unprepared for the saliva that filled his mouth at the intrusion. He carefully relaxed, took his final deep breath, and swallowed the seed down into his throat.
The seed felt impossibly large as it entered his throat, like swallowing a marble, but Tim knew he couldn’t gag. There were too many eyes on him, including his mother’s. He pushed away the thoughts of his discomfort, staying focused on the objective. The chalice of nectar was presented, thick and overly sweet, clinging to his tongue as he forced himself to swallow it down. The nectar was the true magic of the garden, it gave life to all the plants and would force the seed to bloom in his chest.
He heard someone down the line loudly gag, but he stood proud, keeping his eyes focused on the far horizon and holding his breath while all the liquid ran down his throat to mix with the seed.
His throat was blocked and he was unable to breathe as he felt the flower burst to life inside him; petals stretching against his throat, sharp and large. He relaxed his throat and concentrated as he’d been taught, ignoring the loud hacks and cries around him. Deep inside himself, a small part knew that the shape of the flower was wrong, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it.
Some felt pain as they let their minds trick them into thinking the flowers were going to suffocate them. They’d collapse, raking nails across their throats and convulsing on the ground. In the Summer and Fall ceremonies which were filled with the lower rungs of society, it was not uncommon for the weaker individuals to lose control of their bladders as they hacked their flowers up into existence.
The Spring ceremony was filled with the upper echelons of society however, so the most dramatic simply collapsed or cried. Even that was too much embarrassment for a Drake, though.
Tim didn’t even let his eyes water. He held his body stiff until the edges of his vision filled with blackness. Then he parted his lips, opened his mouth and squeezed the air from his lungs to push the flower out of his throat and into the awaiting bowl with a delicate, gentlemanly cough.
He didn’t heave for breath, or look around for praise, those things were too plebeian for a Drake. He took slow calming breaths ensuring he didn’t break out into a coughing fit or do anything else that may embarrass his family name as he recovered. He may have been desperate for air but he couldn’t let anyone see that.
Tim’s focus on maintaining his image was pointless however as his mother looked over his bowl and let out an unseemly gasp of horror. He studied the floating flower in a slight daze as it bobbed in the water of the receiving bowl.
A white lily with a single black petal.
“Bruce please, we can wait until the Summer ceremony can’t we? Dick went in the Winter, it’s fine if we don’t follow your rich people traditions.”
“Dick went in the Winter because we’d already figured out who his match was. That ceremony was just to ensure we didn’t cause a scandal. Spring is the appropriate time, and it’s the honest time Jason.” Bruce was too well mannered to truly whine, but his tone did take on a pleading edge as he grasped on to Jason’s hand. “Jay, we’ve been waiting for years and I feared this would never happen after your accident.”
Jason huffed at that. Bruce’s ability to guilt trip him over his own near death experience never ceased to amaze Jason. “We’ve been over this Bruce, I am fine. The garden curators may have been doubtful that a transplanted flower would bloom, but all the non-classist specialists assured us it’d be fine.”
He was actually certain that the snotty Matriarchs that ran the garden knew it’d be fine too, they just didn’t want his tainted bud near their own. Bruce had gotten his way though and both his adopted sons were accounted for in the Wayne plot alongside all the other Elites.
Jason’s flower bud had been transplanted when he was adopted, and at his near-death it’d almost withered away, so finally blooming in his twenty-third winter wasn’t that odd. The standards of society bloomed between the eighteenth and twenty-first years, so he could barely be considered late.
Concern over his son’s late bloom, however, had added just a few gray hairs around Bruce’s temples. Jason squeezed his dad’s hand back in support. He understood where Bruce was coming from, but it didn’t make this whole ordeal any easier to bear.
“Look, can we at least do it in private or something?” Jason pleaded as he looked up into his father’s eyes. “I’ve seen what happens to people at these things, I don’t want to pass out in front of everyone.”
A modicum of pain flashed through Bruce’s eyes. “Jason, you are strong. I’ll be there with you every step of the way. Just hold the seed in your mouth instead of swallowing and let it bloom there. You can breathe through your nose that way.”
Jason had heard of this trick countless times. He’d seen it work, he’d seen it fail. He’d seen some people hold onto their dignity and daintily drop a flower from their mouths but – more commonly– he’d seen the panic across faces as they doubled over, coughing and gagging as a flower bloomed their lungs, blocking their oxygen until it finally spilled from their mouths in a wave of white petals.
He knew he was going to lose this battle, knew in his gut that he’d do anything for his father the same way Bruce would do anything for him. “You know it’s just going to be a white daisy right? Everyone from my background has a white daisy.”
The acceptance was heard and Bruce’s countenance finally brightened as he smiled softly at his son. “You don’t know that, but honestly it’s what I hope for too. Nothing to tie you further to this damned garden.”
Secretly, Jason could admit to himself that he loved the Eternal Garden. It was beautiful and something he’d only been able to visit once he’d been adopted by Bruce. Only the old Matriarchs of the Elite were allowed to tend to the garden officially, but all of the Elite were allowed to visit.
Bruce should have married a woman that took his mother’s spot, and had a daughter to continue the Wayne legacy, but he’d defied traditions. He’d had a few brief flings, but could never bring himself to tie someone else to the garden in the way his mother had been forced. Instead Bruce had adopted Dick and then Jason, forcing society to bend to his will as he planted their flowers as if they were his kin-by-blood.
When Dick became of age to bloom, he had met a foreign princess and fallen deeply in love. His flower bloomed within a month and Bruce had supported him through a Winter Ceremony. His bloom had been one of his bonded’s native flowers and the match was officially announced. She’d agreed to spend a few rotations with the Garden Matriarchs and that had soothed some feathers.
Maybe even enough that Jason’s soulmate could be excused from any long-term duties… He hoped. He couldn’t imagine dooming some poor commoner to deal with the Elite’s Matriarchs for the rest of her life just because she was his soulmate. They’d treat her like scum on their shoe– he ought to know, as they still did it with him.
His presence in the garden was barely tolerated – a common boy dressed up like a fine member of the Elite due to Bruce’s loneliness. It was full of gossip, some true, some not. Bruce was lonely but he was also a good dad to Jason. Putting his needs first whenever he could.
Unfortunately it was not that time now. Jason had to accept his fate.
The strong scent of florals filled the air on the day of Jason’s Spring Ceremony. It was cloying in its sweetness and the perfume was overwhelming Jason’s nose. The large audience for the ceremony had finally quietened and an unnatural hush filled the garden.
The ingredients for his participation were laid out on the table before him. There were a few others lining the long table, all younger than Jason and all from elite families.
One by one they picked up their seeds and chalices. The seed felt heavy in his mouth and the eyes from everyone around him seemed to be judging him even now. He let it rest on his tongue as he picked up the chalice of amber liquid and pulled a small bit into his mouth. He just needed to take enough to trigger the flower to bloom.
He heard the girl next to him gag loudly and begin hacking. She hunched over the table on shaky arms, her whole body wracking with the force of her coughs.
In his mouth he felt the flower growing, he tried to keep his spit contained but not swallow the blooming flower.
“That should be long enough,” Bruce whispered softly. Jason didn’t hesitate to drop the flower from his mouth to the receiving bowl in front of him.
Around him he could hear the others begin to recover, some gasping loudly at whatever they saw. Jason didn’t gasp, but he felt the dread that had been building all day slowly burst into a cold rage inside him.
That was not a plain white flower for a common match. That was a royal blue clematis… the small, sharp looking petals long had represented House Drake.
“No!” the matriarch of House Drake was suddenly in front of him snatching his bowl away. Jason had met her a few times, usually as she sneered down her nose and told him not to touch the flowers. Her normally pale face was red with fury now.
“Janet, give that back,” Bruce acted quickly, grabbing the bowl back from her and stepping in close to defend Jason.
“This is a farce, Bruce,” she seemed to be struggling to maintain her tone as a vicious whisper, her whole body shaking, “There is no way some street-rat you snatched out of the gutter is a part of my family.”
Jason was cold, but the warm presence of Bruce behind him left him feeling safe from the storm exploding in front of him.
“Well frankly Janet, he won’t be. He’ll always be a Wayne.” Bruce’s hand clapped down on Jason’s shoulder, and Jason reached up to grab it back, hoping his love and gratitude filled the squeeze.
Janet shook, opening her mouth to clearly spew more venom, when another figure tugged her back. “Mother, that’s enough. You are a Matriarch of the Eternal Garden, let’s carry ourselves appropriately.”
The reprimand was so softly spoken that Jason could barely hear it. He became aware at that moment of the others in the ceremony beginning to look their way, clearly interested in what had Janet so worked up.
She seemed to debate continuing the tirade, eyes cutting back and forth between her own son and Jason, before apparently deciding to just retreat in her anger.
The Drake heir stepped forward nary a hair out of place even though he’d obviously just been through his own ceremony. He set his bowl down beside Jason’s and sure enough, it was the Wayne Lily– with the single black petal signifying Jason’s status as adopted.
“Timothy, good to see you,” Bruce broke the silence of their staring at the bowls.
“Just Tim please.” Tim’s eyes finally lifted from Jason’s flower, glanced at Jason briefly, and then met Bruce’s gaze. “Hello, Mr. Wayne. I didn’t know you two were participating this year. This is a fortunate turn. It’s considered good fortune to bloom with your match.” The words were stilted as if they’d be rehearsed, recorded, and played from a gramophone.
“Yes, I have heard that before. But it’s still unusual. Jason, why don’t you and Tim head over to the shade and talk a bit. I’ll go see if I can find Jack.”
Jason grabbed the bowl automatically before pausing, “who?”
“My father,” Tim answered. “He should hopefully calm my mother from her hysterics.” Every word was flat, lacking in tone to indicate Tim’s mood. “She was hoping for a daughter you see.”
“I’m sorry?” Jason tried to offer, unsure if Tim himself was upset over the matter or not.
“What for?” Tim’s head tilted and Jason decided he’d had enough of this awkward conversation at the table.
“Come on, let’s do as Bruce suggested and go have a bit of a conversation.”
Immediately though, Jason became aware of a new issue. The crowds of gawkers. Whispers behind their hands as they stared at Tim and Jason holding their flowers.
“You’d think they’d never seen a match before,” Jason snarked, sticking his tongue out at someone who dared to meet his eyes.
“There is a 12.4% chance of a match happening at the same ceremony.” Tim replied. “Also only a 32.3% chance of it being of the same gender.”
That had Jason halt for a moment. He hadn’t thought about the full romantic implications yet. Was he expected to have sex with Tim? Marriage was common enough between matches… but… intimacy with the man in front of him was something Jason wasn’t quite ready to consider. He’d pushed the thought of sex way back in his mind for so long…
Tim wasn’t looking at him, instead lightly fingering the lily, Jason’s lily, in the bowl, petting the petals softly. “What did you want in a match?”
The question caught Jason off guard. “Common.”
Tim hummed in answer. “I suppose that makes sense. You could ask her to hold the Wayne spot in the garden.”
“No,” Jason corrected before he thought better of it, “Common so it could be anyone and not dictated by the garden. I would never subject an innocent to a life of servitude in the garden.”
“Most would say tending the garden is the highest honor possible.”
“Sure, if you are on the top. But commoners in the garden are treated like workhorses.”
“Technically the commoners in the garden are workhorses. They are not matriarchs. Your match would have been elevated.”
“Do you think they really would have accepted this hypothetical woman?,” Jason challenged. Tim’s tone was still flat, not particularly aggressive or demeaning, which made this debate feel neutral overall.
“No, I suppose not,” Tim’s eyes lifted and Jason observed they were the same shade as the flower still floating in Jason’s bowl. “And you are right, it doesn’t matter now.”
“Well what about you?” Jason’s voice was soft, trying to match Tim’s and hopefully not be overheard by the people still lingering around. “What were you hoping for?”
“A friend.”
The honesty shocked Jason for a moment. “A friend?” he repeated. “This is a matching ceremony. People get married, have families and build their lives together. Sleep together,” Jason choked out.
“Never had much interest in any of that aspect.” Tim replied tonelessly, his eyes back on the lily in his bowl. “Someone to talk to and just not to feel quite so lonely all the time would be nice. I’d expected training for the Matriarch role to take most of the woman’s time.”
Something rolled through Jason, slow steady not unlike the nectar they’d been forced to drink. Sweet and cloying but familiar and – “Well, maybe these stupid flowers know what they are doing after all.”
Tim’s eyes left the flowers and jumped to Jason’s. “What?” His voice seemed edged with tentative hope, the first emotion he’d shared.
“Yeah - what you said sounds pretty nice. Why don’t we disappear and sneak back to my place? I missed lunch and could really go for some tea and sandwiches.”
Tim’s smile reached his eyes as he accepted Jason’s hand. “Sounds great.”
The Seeding Ceremony was an important rite, but it was not the end of the Eternal Garden’s influence. It was just a piece. Every person received a flower in the garden. The Elite’s had specific plots to tend and cultivate their family lines, and the masses had general shared spaces. All of the garden was controlled by the Elite Matriarchs who were responsible for all planting, tending, and announcements of new blooms.
Garden magic was a funny thing though, and under no person’s control. Jason’s flower should have been similar to his birth parents, but instead once Bruce had it replanted, the Garden magic took hold and a lily had bloomed.
Tim sat by the Wayne plot watching the large flower sway in the wind. It was strong and healthy now, but everyone had seen it when (before it’d even bloomed) the bud had shriveled and turned brown. Bruce had brought in outside specialists to provide care, infuriating the Garden Matriarchs by challenging their expertise and power. It’d been proven the right thing to do.
Jason’s bud had recovered, and the Wayne plot was strong and healthy.
As an Elite match, Tim or Jason should have followed tradition and replanted their flowers shortly after the Seeding Ceremony. However, it’d been three months now and Janet using her not-so-inconsiderable influence had delayed the conversation again and again.
Jason’s flower stood strong, no signs of damage from the delay, and there was some measure of comfort in that for Tim.
He’d seen Jason a few times since the ceremony, times when Bruce’s influence won over Janet’s. They’d met up for tea or lunch, and Tim knew that the match had been made correctly. The magic wasn’t failing or twisted, and there was no curse in play– all things his mother had tried to claim so far.
It was normally hard for Tim to open up but with Jason by his side, Tim had quickly found someone that could keep up with his own erratic train of thought, someone that could leap from subject to subject with him and share his ideas. Jason had so much passion in his soul that by the second time they met, Tim knew he’d be able to love this man. Jason had so many plans and aspirations and Tim knew that if Jason was given the slightest bit of encouragement, he’d accomplish anything he desired.
Tim felt his own love blossom for Jason in their stolen moments, basked in the warmth that was Jason’s smile, and sank into their conversations with all the zest of a life he wanted to have.
A life he knew wasn’t going to occur now.
Watching Jason’s flower stay white, the stem and leaves stay green, and the stalk stay sturdy– Tim was comforted. Jason had plenty of friends and family to support him and keep him strong.
Tim’s small blue clematis vine previously had climbed close to his parents' blooms, but now strank back, ignoring the trellis and creeping along the ground. The strand that represented his bloom had already lost three flowers, one for each month they’d been delayed. He didn’t want to look at it any further. He knew it was causing the Matriarchs to gossip and fret, but no one dared to challenge Janet’s ire.
Tim had also learned that some of the old tales taught to caution against betraying the Garden were very, very true. Each flower lost from his vine didn’t simply land on the ground, didn’t wither away– no, each flower was now firmly lodged in his chest. He could feel them with every breath he took– the petals impeding the flow of his air and cutting into his lungs.
He’d tried hot showers, medicines and supplements, any home remedy he could to loosen the flowers, to help cough them up, but nothing helped. According to the old texts, the only way was to accept his match. By accepting, the flowers would dissolve in his chest and rebloom on his vine where they should have stayed.
The unfamiliar sting of tears, a tightness in his throat, slammed into him all at once when he’d read that. He did accept Jason. He was happy with the chance to be around Jason. So why did this have to happen?
Everyone knew what would happen if you rejected a true bond. If you denied the Eternal Garden’s magic. The petals in his chest were just a warning.
If his mother didn’t give up on her quest to keep his flowers in her plot– Tim would die.
For the first few weeks after Jason’s Seeding Ceremony, he was pleasantly surprised that nothing much changed at all. Bruce still encouraged him to go about his studies and, even though the Drake Matriarch was an absolute dragon, he’d managed to visit with Tim a few times.
He found he enjoyed time with Tim and constantly invited him to join the Wayne household for lunch or tea and even dinner. Tim was rarely able to accept– Jason found that was Janet’s doing very early on– but sometimes Bruce was able to step in and smooth it down enough for Tim to visit.
The first sign that something was truly amiss was nearly three months after their ceremony. Jason noticed a small green vine growing around his wrist, tattooed directly into his skin by the magic of the Eternal Garden.
Curiosity was replaced by dread as Jason realized the only time the Garden gifted tattoos– when a bonded person lost their match. It didn’t happen every time someone lost a match, but when the Garden felt the match was strong, that there was potential to be reminded of lost opportunity or a fonder past, the gift of remembrance was granted. Jason had seen the intricate gifts over the years to know that it was a blessing and a curse to most, but for him it was a warning.
He panicked, not bothering to keep his voice down, and sprinting through the hallways to find Bruce. He held out his shaking wrist, pleading out an explanation, begging for help.
Bruce had put on his readers as he tried to examine Jason’s wrist and panic filled him as Bruce didn’t immediately react. It was such a small mark, no flowers on it yet, just the vine– but Jason knew something was happening.
“Bruce, why aren’t you listening? This means Tim is dying!”
Bruce just studied the mark as if it would begin to speak and tell him the answers. “We are all dying Jason,” he finally dropped Jason’s wrist and met his gaze directly. “But I will go speak to the Elite Council. Three months shouldn’t be long enough for either of you to grow ill, but there could be something else at play here.”
“Now,” Jason demanded. “You need to go ask right now.”
The urgency in Jason’s demand seemed to finally reach through to Bruce. “Very well, let’s go now. You can go look in the Garden while I speak with the council.”
Jason couldn’t bear to speak on the way over, his chest was aching and his skin buzzing with anxiety. Each breath was painful as he tried to remain calm. It was just a vine, no buds, no flowers– it didn’t mean that it was too late.
Arriving, Jason felt his soul fill with the Garden’s presence like never before. He lost track of Bruce immediately as he stepped out onto the path in front of him.
The grass of the Garden cushioned his feet as he moved down the pathway and deeper inside the sanctuary. The heat of the summer sun was beating down, but the magic felt like cool relief against his agitated state. He normally took a wandering path through the blooms but this time he was pulled straight towards the Elite plots.
He knew it was Tim sitting by the Wayne plot before he was close enough to recognize features. The magic just told him.
“Tim!” Relief colored his voice as he approached.
The other man startled, clearly having been deep in thought before Jason’s arrival. Jason dropped beside him, examining him for any sign of injury.
“Hi Jason,” Tim seemed amused at his curiosity. It’d taken Jason a few rounds of meeting Tim to get his subtle shows of emotions, but now he could read him easily. Another benefit to the magic between bonded partners.
Jason began to reply, wanting to ask what was happening, show Tim the vine, but something, something deep and innate within him, clamped his mouth shut.
The Garden was speaking. The bright sun, the gentle wind, the soft grass, the fragrant flowers, the buzzing bees, the rustling leaves– all of it came together to tell Jason to not ask, but to listen.
His hand had grasped Tim when he’d fallen to his knees beside him, so he gave it a quick squeeze and then stood again. He wasn’t meant to stop at Tim, that wasn’t what the Garden wanted.
He followed the song as it guided him further along the plots. The sun warm against his back, the breeze tickling his hair, a bee leading the way in front of him. The summer blooms seemed to lean, to point his way onward and the tree branches creaked above his head as they provided moments of shade.
Jason stood in front of the Drake plot and the answer was clear, the song loud.
Bare handed he dug into the ground in front of him, removing the soil and grass, feeling the dirt beneath his fingers. He knew in the back of his mind that what he was doing was a violation of the Garden rules. Only Matriarchs were allowed to breach the earth– but the Garden told him what to do, demanded his attention, and he listened.
Filled with the righteousness of the Garden magic, he knew he’d cause no harm to the plants. His mind swelled with the knowledge of what to do, how to complete his task– how to save his bonded partner’s life.
A sharp gasp sounded behind him, but he paid it no mind. Someone shouted, reached for him, but the Garden repelled them away. There was an accusatory screeching, a softer more supportive cadence– all were muted by the Garden’s instructions as they filled his mind and reverberated through his soul.
The weak clematis vine was freed from its plot, and Jason carefully cradled it to his chest. He didn’t know how many flowers it’d already lost, but he saw the length of the browning stem would match the length of the vine on his wrist. He stood– the song of the Garden swelling loudly as it now knew he’d accomplish its mission.
Turning he strode back down the line of plots, not seeing the crowd that’d gathered, not hearing the questions, the cries– he wasn’t done yet. He reached the Wayne plot, observing the three strong lilies swaying in the wind. He knelt at the one on the farthest right, his own bloom, and began the small hole according to the Garden’s instructions. As he replanted it, his senses slowly returned.
The gathered crowd was hushed, but a few of the Matriarchs hummed the song of the Garden, the song of replanting and joining. Jason’s hands were filthy, dirt all over his clothes and under his fingernails. He glanced behind and immediately locked eyes with Tim.
Tim’s eyes were round and watery, but he stepped forward quickly, handing Jason a small flask. Jason didn’t take it from him, instead clasping his hand over Tim’s so they poured the water over Tim’s replanted flower together.
The magic filled the air, glowing golden in the Summer afternoon. Jason held on to Tim’s hand as they both accepted their new path forward.