During a winter hunt with Toris and Ivan, Gilbert relives one of his worst experiences.

Disclaimer: The concept and characters used in this story are not mine. I only took them out to play.

Polar Bear Club

Later, Gilbert would be sure to tell everyone it was Ivan's fault. Not that it really was, but even Toris would agree that if someone had to be at fault, then Ivan was the best candidate. It was his land after all, and he should be able to read the signs of weak ice.

What had started as a simple hunting trip to bag fresh game during the winter months had quickly taken a plunge for the worst. Literally.

Ivan was leading the way across the snowy grounds of his estate, gun in hand. A few yards behind, Toris and Gilbert struggled against the wind, huddled together for meager warmth. The two were along as help ("Bait," Gilbert had whispered) and Toris also carried an axe, planning on stocking up on firewood on the journey back. They had been gone a few hours when they reached the lake near the back of Ivan's estate.

The Russian spent a few moments studying the ice before turning to his companions. "We will cross here."

"What? Cross this frozen death trap? What's wrong with going around?" Toris noticed Gilbert's voice was an octave higher than usual and his eyes wild, not quite hiding his fear.

Ivan studied the Prussian for a moment, frown softening. He turned and started across the ice. "Follow."

Toris also studied the Prussian, watching as he bit his lower lip. Covered in snow, red eyes wide, he looked ready to blot like the rabbit Ivan so often called him. It took him a minute to realize why Gilbert - who claimed to fear nothing - would fear a walk across the frozen water.

"You were at the Battle of the Ice."

It was not a question, nor was he expecting an answer.

"Ivan was the one to save me. It was the first time we met."

Unlike most of his neighbors, Gilbert was not northern-born. The Teutonic Order was born father south, in Italy. He spent most of his young life fighting in the Mediterranean. Unused to the harsher winters of the north, he had been barely 100 - still only a tiny child! - when he went to battle Novgorod with his brothers in arms. Like his men, he had fallen through the ice in full chain mail. At the time, he didn't know how to swim. He thought he would die there, with his men, in that cold wet hell.

Ivan had saved him, but the experience stuck. As a young child he retained a fear of water and it took many years for him to learn to swim. To this day, he still does not enjoy it. Toris also knew that cold weather hit him harder than the others. Ivan, Toris, and their siblings were born from the cold lands and it was a part of them. Gilbert's connection was not as strong and he often took ill in harsh winters.

Pulling his eyes from Gilbert, Toris noticed that Ivan had stopped part-way across the lake and was waiting for them. Twining their gloved fingers together, he flashed Gilbert a small smile as he tugged him onto the ice. The two remained close together, trying to fight off the wind's cold chill. As they crossed the ice, Ivan turned to continue walking.

They were about half-way across when the first sound was heard. It broke the quiet like a whip crack, causing all three to pause and look around. Another step, more cracking. Gilbert and Toris looked down, then at each other, eyes wide. Leaning forward, Gilbert shoved Toris hard, sending him sliding a few feet away. A loud crack, and a splash, and the Prussian was gone.

"Gilbert!"

Toris was scrambling to his feet, back to where the other man had disappeared. The water sloshed, new ice already beginning to form in the cold air. Quickly shedding his jacket, he barely registered Ivan stopping beside him. The other had picked up Toris' discarded axe.

"Go. I will keep the ice open for you."

With a nod, Toris dove in to the frigid water. It stung his face like a thousand needles and quickly seeped into his clothes, weighing him down. With their winter layers, he knew Gilbert would be sinking fast. Opening his eyes, he could make out Gilbert's pale coloring, thrashing slowly. Angling down, he swam hard. Above him, he could hear the sound of Ivan taking the axe to the ice.

Even as he neared the other, Toris couldn't help but wonder what would happen if they were trapped beneath the ice. They could die from a mortal wound, but would heal quickly and reawaken. But beneath the ice, it would be continuous torture.

As he reached Gilbert, he could make out his unfocused red eyes. Quickly wrapping an arm around the others waist, he took for the surface. He was running out of air and would be no use to anyone if he passed out. Upon reaching the ice, he pressed his lips to the cold surface, sucking in air. Gilbert lay limp in his arms, reminding him to hurry. Turning, he found the broken spot in the ice, the axe dangling in the water. Slowly, he struck out for the opening. He could feel himself weakening in the cold.

Just as the thought he wouldn't be able to make it, Ivan's hand reached into the frigid waters and pulled them both straight out. They flopped onto the ice like fish and Toris lay for a moment, gasping in air. Then he realized Gilbert wasn't breathing.

Ivan quickly lay Gilbert out on his back and pumped his chest, as Toris lay near his head. Tense moments later, Gilbert started to cough and splutter. As they turned him on his side, he coughed up water. Lungs clear, his breathing was restored. Toris gathered the other into his arms, sharing his relief and what little heat he had. A shaking hand was pressed to his cheek before its owner slipped into unconsciousness.

Knowing this was not the proper place to care for their hypothermia, Toris pulled his jacket back on and tried to wrap as much of it around Gilbert as he could. To his surprise, Ivan dropped his long heavy overcoat over them both. Quietly, the large man gathered Toris, still holding Gilbert, along with the axe and gun, up in his arms. He moved quickly, one objective in mind. Although Ivan was chilly, he was warmer than Toris, who suck back into the welcome heat.

When they arrived back at the house, Toris was barely conscious. He could only vaguely make out Ivan's shouted orders to the others. He felt cold as the coats were removed, and struggled when Gilbert was taken from him. He only calmed when he recognized Ivan's sister ordering for blankets and a fire.

The next time he awoke, Toris could hear the crackling of a fire and was swaddled in blankets. He felt warm, and for a moment he forgot everything that had happened. As he tried to move, and found he couldn't, it all came back to him. He realized he was laying next to someone; a quick glance at white hair confirmed it was Gilbert. Around this time, he also realized he was naked. It made sense, he thought. They had both been soaked through, so they had been stripped and wrapped in blankets. Looking around, he realized they were tucked into a nest of blankets on the couch in the sitting room, with a large fire crackling happily.

Becoming a bit too warm, Toris wiggled until his blanket was loosened. He shifted around to get a better look at Gilbert. The Prussian was still pale, but had regained color in his lips and cheeks and his breathing sounded slow and even. They both might come away without pneumonia.

Toris only realized he was watching the other sleep when he stirred and blinked bleary red eyes up at him. "You saved me." Toris gave a noncommittal hmm.

Gilbert shifted and Toris let him, ending up with Gilbert tucked under the other's arm, head resting on his shoulder. He smiled sleepily up at Toris. "You know, for a heathen, you make a pretty awesome angel."

The Lithuanian chuckled softly in his chest, running his fingers through white hair in response.

"Thank you." It was soft, and when Toris looked down, Gilbert was asleep again. He continued running his fingers in the others hair as he settled back down to sleep. Looking to the side, his gaze landed on the armchair and its occupant, whom he knew had been there the entire time. His own smile was soft.

"Thank you."

Ivan's smile was gentle, and Toris followed Gilbert back into slumber.

END

The Battle of the Ice took place April 5, 1242, in the region of Novgorod (somewhere between now-Lithuania and now-Russia). The Livonian Order, a group of knights similar to the Teutons, was there to do battle. Many Teutons were there as well, hence Gilbert's presence. Russia fought on Novgorod's side. Most of the battle took place on a frozen lake, and the combined pressure of the armies eventually caused it to break. The Knights, wearing heavy chain-mail, drowned.