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Kuddelmuddel: "crazy chaos."
That was what Maximilian wanted to call "Christmas" instead.
The Germanic family, despite how meticulous each member was, would inevitably descend into some unplanned tohuwabohu. It was their custom, in recent years, that one relative would host the others at a location in their home. It became a friendly sort of competition; an inner Olympics or Eurovision.
Ludwig, the proud German, had selected a cabin in Bavaria. There'd been hunting, horseback riding, and hiking—
Sebastian, the devoted Swiss, had a loft in the Alps. The family had enjoyed skiing, snowboarding, and sledding—
Then came Erika, the tender Liechtensteiner. Tours of museums, landmarks, and shopping centers had been the highlight of the trip there—
Last but not least, there was Roderich, the sophisticated Austrian. Each performance outshone the previous; a concert followed by a musical by a dance—
But truth be told, Maximilian had struggled with each. He didn't like chasing animals as a game. Nor did he enjoy snow sports, much preferring to build round snowpeople instead. The museums has been interesting enough, but large places were unfamiliar and overwhelming. And even with his own guardian's showcase of Vienna, he'd still had to pace himself. The Kugelmugelian may have been taken out of the country, but the country hadn't been taken out of him. Max appreciated the quieter moments, ones filled with creativity or contemplation. Sometimes there would be useless fights over nothing; like what restaurant they would eat at or how they would cook a particular meal. Politics would inevitably come up, and it would dampen the mood immensely.
Now, as the family hopped onto their weekly Zoom call (yes, one of them had even paid for the full, professional package), Maximilian dreaded the talk of logistics. Be grateful, he chastised himself internally, you'll get lots of gifts at the Christkindlmarkt. And you'll get to gift some things for your friends, too.
Did Peter suffer similar drama on the British Isles? he wondered. What about Viktor with the Nordics? At least Wendy had warmer weather to deal with...
"So, we're back to Ludwig this year?" asked Bash. He was a great shot; even if they wouldn't be in the mountains, he'd still enjoy friendly competition over catching the best buck.
"Oh, I can't wait for it!" Erika sighed dreamily. "I've missed the bakeries, too. I'll have to leave room in my luggage and my stomach to take things back!"
"You're all too kind," said Ludwig, clearing his throat, "and you're all talking too much," he joked. "Let's officially begin, shall we? Roderich, anything to discuss from last year?"
Roderich nodded. "Yes. I truly enjoyed hosting you all, and I'm almost sad that I won't be doing it again this year. Almost." A wry smile. Max evens mirrors it. Roderich always put on a facade of poise, but like a real conductor, always managed to look disheveled by the end of the day from all the effort it took to entertain. He could afford, literally and metaphorically, to sit back and let himself be the guest for another few years. "But I must be blunt, Ludwig, we've all neglected something. You're not the host for this year. It's Mauschen."
A choking sound seizes Max's throat. Mauschen - "little mouse" - had been a nickname that refused to phase out from the day he'd tumbled out of his small house. Roderich said when introducing the young man to the rest of the family that Max had reminded him of a hamster in its ball. Hence, Mauschen. As if Maximilian wasn't well past being "little" by now!
Still, he couldn't help but ask, "... Me?"
"Well! We only have one Mauschen in this family. Ludwig is a Brummbär, of course—"
A gruff grunt (likely a chuckle) from the bear in person interrupts Roderich's speech—
"... and you've gotten all those renovations, haven't you? Most of the family hasn't seen them in person yet."
I didn't think you'd all come, Max thinks. They'd sent him congratulations and celebrated the progress photos he'd texted the group, but otherwise, he hadn't sent an invitation to anyone but Roderich. Even that had been a surprise, to see the man who at one point had to personally be involved from stopping the demolition of Kugelmugel entirely.
Max is still speechless. Bash, noticing the boy's discomfort, tries to intercede. "I thought he'd raised you with better manners, Max. Inviting other people on your behalf! Roderich, that's rude!"
Masking a giggle, Erika decides to join in on the teasing. "All this just to make for a longer gap between him and another vacation where he has to do all the work!"
"I'll do it!" blurts Max, before Roderich can even manage a rebuttal. "... I'll do it. I've wanted to for a very long time. But I didn't think I could."
"Of course you can." Ludwig's voice quietly commands silence from the rest of the Germanics. "You're a part of us, and we are all family. None of us wants to lose more family."
It seems as though the winter outside enters Maximilian's very body. Gilbert had been long gone before Max had established his own republic.
But his ghost still lingered.
Schnapsidee: a stupid idea that seems brilliant in the moment.
Maximilian was beginning to understand how this tradition was so beloved and hated by each person. As he planned what the days would look like in his small country, he felt embarrassed. He could imagine Ludwig wringing his hands through his head, Bash yelling to get out steam, Erika fretting about her house, and Roderich on the verge of collapse.
Max left texts on read and unread. Paintings were left abandoned on easels, sculptures a strange mass of clay and carving tools—
Stealein: Hey! @Max you dead again or what?
Bestie: Shh. He's hibernating. I heard that when you have only a corporeal form, you have to sleep a lot in the winter to regain energy.
Stealein: Hibernating is for animals, idiot.
Bestie: Are humans not animals?
Stealein: Is this Ladonia or LadonAI?
Bestie: Don't insult me!
On and on Peter and Viktor had gone, until Maximilian eventually had to respond. Poor Wendy, who had to suffer such a horrible case of backreading due to her extended timezone apart from the European crew.
Family, he texted back.
Wy-Wy: Ohhh.
Even Roderich had been concerned enough to stop by, looking apologetic. He clarified that hadn't meant to volunteer the poor young man into servitude, only that he'd noticed how difficult the trips had been. Generously, the Austrian had also volunteered to purchase a Roomba to help the Kugelmugelian with cleanup. As tempting (and as round) as it was, Maximilian had to refuse.
Finally, the day had come. Pickups began in the Vienna airport, with Roderich driving and Maximilian nervously fidgeting with his hands in the front passenger seat.
"Should I move?" he asked Roderich.
"Seinen Standpunkt verteidigen." Defend your position. "As host, you should be in the front. When our family makes a decision, we commit to it, Mauschen."
Again with the nickname! Max had to get Roderich back with a similar vulnerability. "Is that why you are still divorced from Erzsébet even though you are still talking to her? You know, had a wedding in my house recently. If you are ever looking for venues again."
Roderich sighed, feigning frustration but beaming with pride at the jab. Seemed their mutual moles weren't the only things the two had in common; it was their sass, too! "Gut gespielt." Well-played.
If it was one thing Max could rely on his relatives for (besides drama), it was promptness. They'd all timed their arrivals well; all three were waiting and waving once Roderich drove up. Maximilian momentarily felt like being temporarily closed again, but he gulped and tried to feel brave.
Max had wrapped gift bags for all of them. Among the goodies were Mozartkugels; round delectables with the official wrapping paper. So rare that he'd had to make the day trip to Salzburg to get them.
(Bash, meanwhile, asked if Roderich had sung the Sound of Music soundtrack the entire way there, to which, Roderich had rolled his eyes. Erika had chided him and said it was a good musical, and she wouldn't have blamed him for the car concert. Ludwig dared Bash to yodel a few songs and send the group chat a recording. At last, Roderich retorted that he'd just bought a new phone and wasn't looking to replace it, since the sound of Bash's voice would break the device completely).
It only took a half-hour from the airport to the Prater. There was Kugelmugel in the distance, looming like an overgrown orange that had fallen off its tree. Max's nerves ebbed away at the sight of home.
He was the first to lead the line of Germanics into his house. The keys jingled only momentarily, enough for him to detail the excitement about the fresh coat of paint, the new stairs, and even a recently-elected president!
But what truly took their breath away is what's inside.
As to be expected, there are portraits, landscapes, photographs, wood carvings, metalworks, and other unique artworks—but what they weren't expecting was that each piece was from one of their artists. German, Swiss, Liechtensteiner, Austrian... there are even a few who were from Prussian people.
Next to each curated creation was a placard with impeccable detail. The young man had spent ample time researching everything enough to give it its due; even lesser-known facts that only each countryperson would know.
The young man caught all of them wiping their face in some capacity—some doing it on the sly, others flowing the tears freely.
"Die Familie ist eines der Meisterwerke der Natur," Max whispers. "The family is one of nature's masterpieces. Family is art."
Full of labor and love.