A/N: This is my first fanfic. Forgive any wording that doesn't sound quite right. ^^;
Russia held the letter with its graceful and scrupulous hand as if it was a ticking bomb. Not Babushka, not Babushka, not Babushka, was all that was going through his normally cunning brain. Ukraine and Belarus were dancing together, and the expression on the younger sister's face was that of the lioness who'd caught the eagle. Russia dropped the letter abruptly and made a run for the vodka cellar, fully intending to barricade himself in, in the futile hope that his Babushka wouldn't find him.
Belarus was much faster and flung her arms around Russia's waist in an iron grip that would have made Stalin cry with tears of pride. "Babushka Slava's coming for a visit! Isn't that wonderful?"
No, it's not, was what he wanted to say, but more than that, he wanted to be locked up in the vodka cellar.
Ukraine tapped Russia on the shoulder. "We should tidy up the house before Babushka arrives. Babushka does like a tidy house," she said with a touch of cheerfulness.
"After Russia and I get engaged," Belarus asserted, blue eyes fixated on Ivan's face. "And then we'll be married, married, MARRIED!"
Yekaterina paused to consider this while Russia's face developed a panicky look. "Wouldn't Babushka like to see this?" she asked finally. "I'm sure Babushka would like to know about the engagement first." She picked up the dropped letter and perused it again. "Babushka says she wants everyone to come. We should go tell everyone."
Natalia froze. "Not Slobodanka. Slobodanka is not coming here. She is not staying anywhere near my Ivan," she said between clenched teeth while gripping Ivan tighter than ever.
"Babushka did say everyone, so Slobodanka has to come, too, Natalia. I could go get everyone, but…" she trailed off, looking around Ivan's dilapidated house. "Babushka always did say Ivan had the loveliest house. She'll be so disappointed if it isn't clean by the time she gets here," she said mournfully.
"Fine, Ivan and I will go get everyone. It'll be a pre-wedding honeymoon," she added quickly. Ivan almost whimpered at the prospect.
Babushka Slava settled down in an airy parlor in Czech's house. It was rather worrying to her to see so much scaffolding around the house, since Libushe had always been scrupulous in caring for her house. She arranged her deep blue wool skirt, sitting up straight and tall in the red plush and gilt chair Czech had so graciously offered her Babushka. At least Libushe's manners hadn't waned as her house had.
"Grandmama," Libushe said, "I've brought your tea." A diminutive, well-built young woman with high cheekbones, rich brown eyes, and a mane of soft brown hair flowing down to about her waist entered with a silver tea service. She was clearly Babushka's granddaughter, with the same curvy build, the high cheekbones, and the diminutive stature. Unlike her Babushka, who was dressed in a full skirt with a black satin sash and a crisp, lacy white late Victorian blouse, as well as fine silver and sapphire jewelry and classy black button-up boots, the younger woman wore black slacks, more piratical boots, gold and amber jewelry, and a white peasant blouse with gold beads and sequins.
Babushka smiled. "Just as mannerly as ever," she said, kissing Czech on the cheek as she leaned down to set the tea service on the elegant Art Nouveau table between Babushka's chair and the matching ottoman Czech settled onto. "How have things been with you?"
"Improving steadily," Czech said, pouring the tea and adding a generous portion of milk and sugar to her fine china cup. "The European Union has accepted me and my bosses hold respected places within the leadership. One cube of sugar and a splash of milk, right?"
"Correct," Babushka said cheerfully. Libushe had always been one of her favorite granddaughters, kind, friendly, and doing extremely well for herself in the world. "How high up in this European Union are you, my dear?" she asked as Libushe offered her the cup of tea.
"President, Grandmama, I was the president of the EU last year," she said with pride. "For half a year, according to the laws of the EU."
Babushka smiled widely. "That's my Libushe. How is tourism doing for you, my dear? I seem to recall you've recently been speaking of the advantages of tourism. I'm afraid I don't entirely understand this tourism business," she added, sipping her tea demurely. Babushka had never seen a great number of visitors to her home, but at some point, Ivan had a lot of foreign dignitaries visiting, and Libushe always seemed to have guests in her home.
"Tourism improves every year for me, and I work hard to keep it improving. Tourism is people visiting and spending a lot of money to travel and see the sights and purchase mementos to take home," she explained patiently. "I use the money I earn from tourism to improve my house and bring in more tourists."
Babushka's smile widened. "That is indeed my Libushe, making your way in the world so admirably and always working to keep things improving. I see you have resumed glassmaking, yes?" Libushe's work with glass and crystal had long been the awe of the family, and it was with Babushka's…encouragement…that her brothers and her cousins bought Czech's exquisite glass and crystal.
"Of course, Grandmama. The market for it has returned."
"I passed by St. Vitus' Cathedral on the way in, and it looks like you've just finished a touch up on St. Wenceslas' tomb. I see you've finished it, and I'll daresay it's the most beautiful and luxurious cathedral in the world. How long has it taken you to build? Six centuries now? A long time, but the patience certainly shows in the craftsmanship. Such exquisite exterior mosaics, I love the tiling on the roof, and the carvings and the stained glass are absolutely marvelous. But don't you think the reliquary for St. John of Napumu's tongue is a little overdone?" she asked, finishing her gushing compliments.
Libushe sighed. "At the time it was made, it seemed like a good idea. You have to respect a confessor who keeps his client's secrets, though I will agree that making such an elaborate small silver coffin was a bit much. The silversmiths were a trifle overenthusiastic, I fear." She paused and spoke quickly, before Babushka could ask about the mining industry. "Grandmama, it looks like you've brought quite a bit of luggage this time. Are you going somewhere for a while?"
Babushka set down her tea and sat back in her chair. "I thought it would be nice to visit your cousin Ivan for the month of December, starting next week. And I've asked the whole family to visit for the month, so we can celebrate Christmas together."
Libushe froze. Not Ivan's dreary house! she thought in a mute panic. She'd spent 51 years in Ivan's cold and dilapidated house during this century, and she was in no hurry to return. "Ah, Grandmama, are you certain? Now may not be a good time, some of the others may have plans this Christmas. Like Ivan, he may be really busy," she flailed. She had politely omitted the fact that it was already December, since Babushka still stubbornly followed the Julian calendar instead of the Gregorian calendar.
"Nonsense, I'm sure they'll be pleased to clear their schedules for time to visit with their Babushka. Besides, it's been such a long time since I last visited Ivan's house. I believe it's been a century, and I do so love Ivan's house. It's so beautiful, and Ivan's masters, the Romanovs, do know how to throw the very best of parties. I'm certain it's no trouble," she asserted firmly.
Libushe inwardly winced. Ivan was not a fan of Babushka, he'd gotten rid of the Romanovs, and his house was, to not put too fine a point on it, a shambles. While Libushe wasn't particularly fond of Ivan, when she, Feliks, and Ivan had been small, the three had been rather close, and she knew Ivan did not like Babushka. Babushka had installed the terror of Baba in him from a very young age, primarily because he was the eldest boy and had the biggest house and the biggest responsibilities as the head male of the Slavic family. Never mind that only Babushka or Ivan in a particularly coercive mood could unite the family. Given Ivan's state right now, Ivan was so dead meat, and he was so going to incur the wrath of Baba. Libushe almost felt sorry for him. Almost.