AN: I know England is supposed to be younger in his human form here but this was already written when I remembered that. I hope you enjoy it anyway :)
England hesitated for a moment before knocking on the door. "Guinevere, we need to talk."
His beautiful queen turned to speak with him. Her face was glowing with happiness that England knew she didn't deserve, "Ah, dear England. What service can I do for my beloved country today?"
England stepped into the room, ignoring her pleasantries, "You know exactly why I'm here, Guinevere."
"Oh, how many times have I told you to call me Gwen?" she giggled. "Oh, but pray tell. I honestly have no idea what you want to speak to me about?" She looked at him innocently with a look that could've fooled anyone didn't know her as well as England did.
England scowled. Did she honestly think she could deceive anyone? "Don't lie to me, Gwen. I know you've been seeing him."
The queen put on a confused look, "Seeing who?" England couldn't help but wonder whether his queen was being purposely irritating.
"Lancelot," he spat out the name as if it were a poison. "You've been seeing him behind the king's back."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Guinevere tittered, her smile turning sickeningly sweet. "I'm not doing anything wrong with the man."
He felt outraged. Doing nothing wrong with the man? It couldn't have been more obvious what was going on between the foreign knight and the queen. In fact, half the court knew of it.
"Oh, so I didn't see you whispering into each others' ear behind the bushes of the private garden?" England raised his eyebrows incredulously. "I haven't notice you escaping the dining hall almost simultaneously during the evening feasts?"
England had seen even more than this. He had seen them together once as he was returning to his rooms from a banquet. It was more than innocent conversation. He had seen their shadows by the light of the moon, entwined in an intimate embrace. It wasn't something he could ignore. Hence he was confronting her now.
"I don't know of any law saying that I'm prohibited from talking to the man," Guinevere defended herself. "Isn't it my duty to welcome the new knight?"
"I'm sure welcoming the knight doesn't apply to letting him in your bed chambers," England snarled in disgust.
Guinevere looked appalled, "Are you accusing me of something?"
"I'm accusing you rightfully, if that's what you mean," England retorted. "How could you Gwen? How could you betray Arthur like this?"
The outrage on his face was mirrored in hers. "Is he all you care about? Aren't you even willing to see my side of the story?"
"What else is there to see?" England yelled at her, his respect for the queen overpowered by his loyalty to his king. "Have you done something else? Perhaps something that would make me feel even more disgraced to have you as my queen?"
She closed the distance between them in a few long steps. A sudden pain stung his cheek where her hand had struck it. "How dare you?" she yelled, tears streaming from her eyes. "How dare you speak to your queen in that way?"
"Well, as far as I'm concerned, your Grace, you're abandoning you position along with your husband. I don't even understand how you can hurt him like this."
"What about me, England? You can see that has done wrong to me as well, so—"
"Wrong? The king has never done you any wrong!" England said, overriding her perspective cruelly.
"This is exactly what I mean! You won't even listen to me! Are you forever going to see me as the villain in this story? I wouldn't even be turning Lancelot if he didn't overlook me like he does, always thinking about his battles and—"
"So this is what it's about? You lack attention? Of all the immature reasons—"
"It is not immature," she insisted, sobbing. "How would you ever understand? You've never had someone you love who never even pays attention to you. You've never tried your hardest to please someone, only to have them ignoring your best efforts. How can I even get Arthur's attention when he's so obsessed with his bloody England? I had to feel loved, England, and Lancelot was there for me. You have the devotion of our king so can't I have this small comfort?"
He looked carefully at Guinevere's face and saw the genuine sorrow in her eyes. England's hard gaze softened into a pitying expression as he struggled to think of what to say next. He still wanted her to stop this nonsense with Lancelot, for the sake of his king and the kingdom, but he and Guinevere were like siblings. The relationship between them had always been a cordial, affectionate one before that Lancelot came along.
"Look, Gwen," he sighed. "I didn't come in here to shout at you, all right? All I want you to do is to stop seeing Lancelot. Please? If the king ever finds out about this, he'll have no choice but to kill you."
"He won't find out if you don't tell," Guinevere said with a pleading tone. England could see that she wouldn't budge on this. It was time to use the last resort.
"Gwen, Lancelot is no good for you. He's using you to get the throne and the power," he said, ignoring the fact that he wasn't sure whether this information was true. He would do anything to split Gwen and Lancelot apart. He would anything to save Arthur from a broken heart, even if it meant breaking Guinevere's.
"That's a lie!" she shrieked. "Lancelot loves me!"
"No," England insisted. "Arthur loves you. Lancelot doesn't care for you, he never did."
"Stop lying to me! Just stop!" she sobbed, fresh tears coming from her eyes. Did he really have to tear her in half like this? England felt his conscience bothering him. Anything for the king, the voice in his head whispered. Anything for the king, he repeated in his mind with more conviction.
"You don't need that fool, Lancelot. Just say the word and we can make him suffer for leading you on like this," he promised her.
"He loves me, he truly loves me," Guinevere repeated over and over, as if to convince herself. "Why don't you accept that?"
"I don't fall for his deceptions because I know that Arthur loves you more than anyone."
Guinevere shook her head, "Hey may love me but I'm only second to his beloved country." Her face fell even more when he did not contradict her. "See, England? Even you cannot contradict that statement. You know what? I'm tired of being second to you. I'm going to make myself happy for once in my life."
"All right Gwen," England replied helplessly. What else could he say?
She put her hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, England," she whispered before turning away from him and leaving the room.
"I'm sorry, too Gwen," he muttered, knowing full well that he was alone.