Welcome to the first chapter of "Bouquet" I hope you enjoy your read! This story was originally going to be for a story contest back in September last year, but it wasn't quite ready, that is, until now! So please, sit down in a big sofa, grab a cup of tea, and relax into this enchanted story of three loves in the darkest hour, finding their way out of a storm by the sweetness of a flowers bloom! I do not own Hetalia, but I do own this story. This chapters song is Vanner Och Frander by Garmarna.
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It was no surprise to anyone that the Bondevik's estate was beginning to crumble financially. Weighed down heavily by an alcoholic and frivolous Lord Christen Bondevik who spent his money on prostitutes and gambling, biding his time in opium dens laden with plush cushions and sweet smelling smoke. He was as good to the family as a cat was as good to a rat.
It was not an even bigger surprise that Lord Christen Bondevik died from such an attitude on life, and a sorrowful one at that. Found dead in a prostitution den, having died of an overdose of a tincture of liquid opium, the news of his departure caused the whole Bondevik estate to erupt into tears and chaos - oh, but not for Lord Christens Death! No, but woe onto them the heavy debt that was burdened upon his family. His only two sons and nephew, Nikolas, Emil, and Tino had had their inheritance gambled long ago they found, and barely a skilling left in Lord Christens will for them. They were in a dire situation that looked dimmer and dimmer by the hour.
Slowly collapsing with a debt not theirs, in a house too big, with standards to upkeep in the rich area that was Drammen, Norway - they had to resort to a plan to gain back the glory that they once were. To keep prying rumors from other Earls and Lords and good ladies from scandalizing them, they had to come up with a plan.
And a plan did they draw up! They were desperate, as one could imagine, and in great need of financial support and fast. So what could they do? Who could they depend upon?
Tino could barely obtain any help from his mother who was a widow and was barely herself living in comfort - they could scarcely ask the poor old women to help fend off the debt collectors! They had cousins in Germany, a shrewd but friendly lot. But Nikolas was too embarrassed to ask them for help. He would have had to sell the whole plot of land to them, and that he could just not do. So they resorted to a new tactic, a bitter one that left their mouths raw and tears falling from their face, for this was how low they had sunken.
Arranged marriages were all good and plenty - but they had been kicked so low as to entertain the thought of saying yes to the first woman who presented her hand to either Tino or Nikolas - providing she had a terribly wealthy dowry or her family came from a rich background.
They knew It was shameful, to wed only for the sake of burdening a debt onto the brides family - but what more could they do? In this terrible year of 1877, when to be rich meant you had everything, and poor nothing but dust. When the wealthy were the toast of society and the penniless beaten and thrown into insane asylums.
It was the only choice they had.
Oh, Tino was distraught about the whole thing the most - for he was already in love, with a man, and one of their gardeners no less. How scandalous indeed! He had locked himself in his room for three days and four nights, refusing to eat and even speak - letting his lovely terrace garden flowers wilt in the sun from lack of water and care.
Nikolas thought the Finn had even tried to revive the precious blooms with his tears, so distraught and stricken he was.
But Nikolas reminded the Finn that he too knew how he felt, that his heart belonged to someone else as well. To someone he could not have for fear of societies wrath.
The eldest of the Estate wished that it would not matter whom they chose to love, but they were burdened by debt and could not bare to see the estate sold to another family who they were sure would not give it the same love and care. And what of the lovely gardens? He would surely not hand over his lovely flora to a stranger! No, they must all stay in this manor to look after the lovely buds.
It was their home, all they had - and Nikolas was sure not another primrose would ever look so sweet in another plot of land that was not their own.
So it was that they wept, all three together in Nikolas' master bedroom, pressed between sheets and linens that they would soon have to sell to money collectors. They cried and cried, wishing for a better escape, a way out where their love for poppers could bloom and they could just forget this old estate that was so lovely but haunted them tremendously.
They wished they could just forget.
Yet they could do something to sweeten the predicament, make it at least a bit bearable, they decided.
So, they placed a catch onto the wedding plan, the arrangements that would soon come flooding in tucked away in creamy envelopes and wax seals, ribbons to bind them tight.
If one wished to take the hand of Nikolas or Tino - as Emil was much too young, they must only pass three inspections.
First, they must be of good intentions - not to ruin the family in debt even further, they must be able to pay the admittance fee for proposal of 16 Skilling, and they must, and this is quite important - be able to guess and present Nikolas and Tino's favorite flower should their hands they seek in marriage.
It was simple regulations. Something to invite even the littlest bit of love into the arranged marriages that was sure to present themselves. But neither of the three Bondevik's residents knew just how much of a predicament they were throwing themselves into.
For what man could ever love a stranger, even for the sake of the loveliest of flowers?
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There once was two men, all strong and thick headed. With hair that was like spun gold, and eyes as blue as the sea in March. They were in love, in the sweetest of sense. They wrote poems on flower receipts and mumbled words into the wind, sweet nothings for their beloveds to catch and hear. They were apprentice gardeners, working under the careful hands of the owner of the nursery, Meihua, or, Plum Blossom.
They were treated kindly and fairly, in a day and age when men who were not well off were scorned and left to starve in the streets. But no, Mathias and Berwald were blessed by good fate to be cared for by the hands of their boss, Cheng Li Xuan. He never raised a hand nor cane to the men, he made sure they had lodgings attached to the shop, and he always treated them with respect when it was needed to boost up the two Scandinavians morale.
Cheng Li Xuan was the youngest child from a wealthy Asian family, and though he was often quiet and brooding like a hen in the peak of winter, he ran his shop with careful calculating intellect.
He himself, was a most respectable and educated man. With charcoal hair that was polished to a shine from the most fragrant of soaps, and the brightest teeth one had ever seen, to his most appealing clothes dyed in reds and plums and on some occasions, navy blue. He was strong witted and able in body, though he himself did not partake in the harsher labors that was demanded of running a garden nursery shop. No, he had others to do that for him.
His shop was received marvelously by the rich of Drammen. Elderly women passing by the shop always found delight in purchasing a stunted pot of orchids that were so hard to come by in the frigid weather of Norway. Men, looking for a red carnation to place in their button hole on the way to the theater, prized themselves on adorning their coats with Chen Li Xuans flowers that bloomed so fragile-like in the stores windows. The little girls and boys, looking for a beautiful gift to grace their mothers flower pots come spring, collected sunflower seeds in their palms, and with Li Xuans instruction, promised to take special care of the shoots until they bloomed ferocious and vibrant in the setting sun.
Oh yes, Li Xuan had a collection of customers that valued his every opinion, that prided themselves in planting his apple trees in their yards, and adorning their smoking rooms with his purple iris' that stayed long and fresh through the week.
His flowers were always a personal favorite of the masses.
However, one of the shop keepers best customers was the Bondevik's family. The Estate, Xuan had recently read in the paper, had now become a labor of love and hate for the family, after a cruel throw of the die had left the clan in its rubble-like ruins. The family, now only consisting of the young Nikolas and Emil Bondevik and their cousin Tino Väinämöinen, would surely see the Estate suffer heavily in their lifetime.
It was no surprise to anyone that the three of them would see to such drastic measures as to ensure their wealth, what little they had of it, to creating a ploy to become grooms.
However, as Xuan knew from his personal spying and bribery of his two best employees - the hearts of the Bondevik Estate were already claimed by others.
Berwald and Mathias had worked for Xaun and his prized store for as long as the shop-keeper could remember. They were manual labor. They took care of transporting the freshly cultivated or bought flowers in crates on mule buckboards to estates where they would plant the succulent roses, the tawny aspens, and the yellowed broom upon lawns that were drenched in dew. They worked the soil with hide covered hands and spades as sharp as cleavers, as was their main profession and delight.
Both men breathed, lived, and grew flowers with a passion.
Indeed, Xuan found that the two of them enjoyed their job, but preferred the Bondevik Estate over all others. More than likely, he professed, because of the beautiful residents that lived there. Xuan was not to be fooled by the glassy eyes of his workers, at the quickness of their breath as they were told to hitch up the mules and drive down to the railway, into the pear orchards craggily with soil, and to the sloping lawn of the Estate that was cobblestone grey and trimmed in egg-shell white.
Xuan, oh clever Xuan knew what enticed the men to comb their hair the best, to neatly press their vests in steam the night before, to wear a daisy in their buttonholes.
Xuan himself knew that Berwald and Tino had been sweet on each other for months now, perhaps even years.
The giant oaf had somehow, beyond all logic, captivated the cousin of the Estate. Whether it was by sweetened words spun by the Swede's coarse tongue, or the promise of better days for the Finn, Tino had accepted his love with open arms, and most scandalously of all, his opened bed.
Mathias was no different in his prowess for achievement, though Nikolas, the cause of the Dane's affection, was a hard heart to be won.
No amount of pleasantries, of allurement and promises could quite catch the Norwegian in the Danes arms. Nikolas was just too good, it seemed for Mathias, though the other man would hardly give up in the chase, full of vigor and pride as he was. The Norwegian would always retaliate with a prod-like tease to the Danes ego, all in good merciless fun.
Yet suddenly that all changed gradually. Nikolas and Tino would see the men less and less, no more sits by the hearth where they would share afternoon tea, no more pear and apple picking in the fall - they even stopped coming to the shop, having Emil take their errands instead with a pad of paper strewn in Nikolas' tight handwriting.
It was as if they did not want anything to do with them.
That was when, after a few weeks of absence had passed, Mathias stormed into the small outcrop shack where the two men slept conjoined to the shop.
He was fuming mad and in his mind, rightfully so.
"They are looking for brides!" He raged, throwing a newspaper into Berwald's face.
The Swede gazed with bewilderment at the ink on the thick and heavy paper as he read of the Bondevik's rumored predicament on the first page that was pronounced in bold type. Sinking lower into the hay stitched cot, he felt his heart clench and his eyes widen.
As he read on, he felt a devastating blow encroach his senses, a feeling that left him with despair.
"Well, what shall we do?" Mathias had asked, more distraught than ever at the fact of losing Nikolas whom he loved dearly to some cheeky woman or some coldhearted man.
Berwald only paused as he flickered his eyes to the paper and back to his friend, his lips pursed tight with a grimace that seemed to always come naturally to his face.
"There is only one thing we can do." He had mumbled softly, setting the paper down and squeezing his scarred fingers to his knees.
Mathias raised his honey brown brows. "And what is that?" he spat.
Berwald sighed, running his fingers threw his short cropped hair.
"Come up with 16 skilling each, and start planting."
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So this chapter feels rushed… Does it feel rushed to you? Anyway, here is another story with another chapter. I have no clue why I am doing this to myself, I mean honestly, I have so many unfinished stories. Well. I hope you enjoyed this, more to come.