A/N: I decided to do this fic from Libushe's POV, for a change. Also...sorry for the long wait, school has been munching on me!
Disclaimer: I only own the following characters: Babushka Slava, the Czech Republic (Libushe), Slovakia (Zdenko), Serbia (Slobodanka), Croatia, Montenegro, Bosnia, Herzegovina, and Macedonia (Aleksander). Everything else belongs to the people who made Hetalia.
I have seen many of the major events of Europe from an external position. Even in recovering from my stay in Ivan's communist home, I'd stayed one of the more independent members of the household and one of the richest as well. By the birth of the 18th century, I was easily the most atheistic country in Europe, due to having hosted the 30 Years' War.* I'd been stuck in Austria and Hungary's Austro-Hungarian house, Germany's Third Reich house, and Russia's communist house. I'd only ever hosted the 30 Years' War on my own soil, but having talked a lot with the West and the East in Europe, she had seen a great deal.
However, I'd never seen Ivan in this much trouble. Babushka's silence was mostly a case of her taking a deep breath to prepare a proper rant. It definitely did not seem it could get much worse at that point. However, even I, the most jaded member of the family, had to admit what happened next nailed Ivan's ostentatious coffin shut.
The wind slammed the doors opened and I shivered as the Arctic blast howled into the foyer. As I blinked through the swirling snow, I glimpsed a figure that had become dreaded during Ivan's communist phase, a womanly figure standing tall in classy military boots and deep furs. Siberia. Babushka's adopted granddaughter that had been put in charge of the Gulag during Ivan's communist phase. Oh, shoot. Ivan was definitely going to wish he was dead now.
Siberia's dark eyes in her moon-pale face swept the room and settled on me, Ivan, and Babushka. I smiled nervously, Ivan's smile was tinged with a manic panic, and Babushka's expression went from the Wrath of Baba to absolute grandmotherly affection and delight. I didn't bother clocking it. Babushka's mood swings had always kept the entire family on its toes since infancy and probably before.
"Babushka, I'm here," Siberia said in a sultry voice that belied the cold nature she'd adopted as the home of the Gulag. "Ivan, you look well," she continued without a hint of the deep sarcasm of the greeting. "Libushe, you are definitely looking better than the last time I saw you," she added to me, giving me a brief and honest smile. My own smile took on a relieved tinge from the honesty of her smile. The last time I'd seen her was when Ivan had sent me to the Gulag for…discipline. Fortunately, Siberia had never been the sort to hold grudges. Well, not serious ones.
Babushka stepped forward and threw her arms around our adopted cousin before Siberia could greet the rest of us and reveal too much more that would get Ivan's head ripped off. As our grandmother and our cousin swapped greetings, having not seen each other in a century or two, I turned to Ivan.
"The good news is that she doesn't know about the Gulag, Ivan," I said softly to my extremely powerful cousin. "Any idea what you're going to do when she finds out about Siberia and the Gulag?"
Ivan had no time to response before the shrieking resumed. Apparently, Babushka had gotten a straight answer out of Siberia of how the last century had been. I gulped and stepped back. While none of us liked to be in the presence of Baba, a tiny part of all the rest of us present had to strongly admit that Ivan had had this screeched lecture coming to him since the end of Romanov rule.
"Grandmama, shall we go to the Great Hall?" I suggested mildly once she took a break to take a breath.
Unfortunately, this was one of those times I should have kept my adventurous mouth shut.
"YOU! WHY DIDN'T YOU OR YEKATERINA STOP IVAN?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing as she addressed Yekaterina, the oldest granddaughter, and me, the most successful granddaughter. Babushka prized her granddaughters highly, so Yekaterina and I had often been scrutinized growing up.
"Well, you see, Grandmama, Yekaterina was still living with Ivan and was so busy with the harvest, you know how hardworking she is," I babbled helplessly and in a terrified state. "And, well, the rest of us have lived so long on our own and everyone in Europe was so excited about nationalism, you see, that we kinda got excited when Ivan invited the rest of us to live with him. And, well, we were too delighted to be with the most Slavic of all our male relatives to really realize what had gone wrong, and, well, once you're living under someone else's roof, you kinda follow their orders, and…well…" I trailed off, shooting Siberia a pleading look. Siberia had often been saddled with me when we were in Ivan's house. I tended to not know when to shut up when I was caught up in something.
Siberia sighed and closed her eyes, recognizing my plea. "Babushka, leave off everyone else. Nationalism was popular at the time, so they were all fantasizing about living as a family again, so when Ivan invited them to live with him, they went along with him without knowing what they were getting into. Once they were under Ivan's roof, they couldn't really argue. Libushe did, even though it was a pretty stupid thing to do, but at least she didn't stand there like an abandoned fawn."
Babushka turned to give me a look that still disturbed me, but fortunately, Siberia hadn't finished giving a progress report.
"Oh—one more thing, Ivan, Babushka, everyone: General Winter will arrive after St. Nicholas' Day to join us for the holidays." Siberia looked Babushka straight in the eyes. "General Winter and I are now dating, Babushka."
Ivan turned to flee to the vodka cellar. With the reflexes built up from having lived with Ivan, the rest of us seized him. Ivan had just been informed of his doom, and running to vodka wouldn't help. In fact, if Babushka found out about the vodka, she wouldn't let him touch vodka until after she left.
Fortunately, Babushka was congratulating Siberia on dating the one person whom Ivan dreaded, aside from Babushka, so she didn't notice the attempted flight. When Babushka turned to us to tell us that we were moving on to the Great Hall for the little ball we were hosting, Ivan was again smiling. However, I noticed that his blue eyes held an abject and childlike terror in the wake of the Wrath of Baba.
*I didn't mean to start the 30 Years' War. I'd just had a habit of choosing a new foreign boss to lead me every generation, and when Austria's Hapsburgs had blatantly ignored my policies, some of my nobility decided to defend my honor by throwing the Hapsburg governors of Bohemia out the window of the castle in Prague. It was several storeys to the ground, but the governors fortunately fell through a stable roof below the castle into a pile of horse manure and limped back to Vienna to complain. Austria was not happy that I would not live obediently and quietly in his house like a good girl.
