A/N: Don't own any of them, though that wouldn't be a bad thing…
It was cold. Really, really cold. Galahad shivered under his cloak, pulled it tighter around his shoulders. He coughed, a barking, wet noise that ripped unwillingly from his mouth. Galahad could feel Gawain's scrutinizing gaze on him through the snow, and he rolled his eyes. He was okay, a bit under the weather, maybe, but that was it. Nothing to warrant the cloaked glances Gawain was sneaking at him lately or the way Arthur made sure to check up on him every time they paused. He winced as another cough erupted from his mouth. He groaned slightly as his chest ached.
"Are you alright?" Gawain asked quietly, looking at his friend with worried eyes.
"Fine," Galahad gasped, but he was interrupted by yet another cough, and Gawain wasn't buying it. "Really, I'm okay." This time it came easier, and Galahad was relieved when Gawain moved on ahead to the front of the group, where he was patrolling. His relief was shortlived. Bors, who had been riding just ahead of him, was slowing down, annoyance written all over his face.
"Not yer mother," he was muttering, and Galahad groaned as he realized what Gawain had done. Sending Bors to look after him…He wasn't a child, though the other knights, especially Arthur and Gawain seemed to think he was. Always making sure he was okay after a battle, going out of their way to check him over. The other knights were trusted with their own safekeeping, why wasn't he? He was tired of their overprotectiveness, and apparently, so was Bors.
"Yer a'right, ain't ye, lad?" He asked loudly, and Galahad nodded. It was a bad idea; the simple movement set his head spinning and he found himself holding back a wave of bile as nausea overwhelmed him. It took him a moment to regain any semblance of control, but he was relieved to see that Bors had already moved on ahead of him, apparently content with Galahad's feeble assurance. It was starting to snow harder now, and Galahad was even more nauseous than before. He blinked through the snow as his head spun, his thoughts coming alarmingly slowly, as he realized that he could no longer see Bors ahead of him. He knew that he should do something, spur his horse or call out, but his body was no longer reacting to his commands. His head pounded, chest ached as he coughed, this time long and hard, unable to draw in a breath. Spots were appearing in front of his eyes, and he thought vaguely as he began to slide that knights didn't fall off their horses, but by then it was too late and he didn't know where he was as blackness closed in on him.