"Up here – in the middle, if you please, Mister Pevensie."

Grudgingly, Edmund took the schoolmaster's place in front of the class. He wished for the umpteenth time that term that he'd kept his mouth shut during his English lesson.

"Now, then, why don't you tell us what you know about love?" Edmund opened his mouth to protest, but the schoolmaster continued, "Rhapsodise, Mister Pevensie. Expound. I'm quite sure the boys would love to hear from you."

Several of his classmates snickered as he shifted uncomfortably.

"Love, sir?"

"Yes. Love. The feeling your mummy presumably has towards you."

More laughter. Edmund's ears felt warm.

"Let's make this a little easier, Mister Pevensie. Simply answer this question: What is love?"

"A feeling. An emotion. A state of…being," he blurted out, sounding horribly flat and insincere. Noticing the schoolmaster's frown, he added, "A many splendoured thing?"

"For God's sake, boy," cried the schoolmaster over the boys' laughter, "you're in English class, not Science! Tell us more! Elaborate! Draw on personal experience if you must!"

"But he hasn't any, sir," called a rough voice, and the boys guffawed.

"Piers, ready your own definition of 'love'; you will tell it to the class once Pevensie is finished."

Edmund would've smirked had he been listening; but he had not. The schoolmaster had told him to draw on personal experience, so his mind – as it usually was when he was seeking inspiration – was in Narnia.

He thought about Susan and Caspian, and the various stolen moments they'd had together in Narnia. Friendly archery rivalry, each showing off for the other's benefit; glances that lasted a little too long; and what he supposed were meaningful smiles that spoke of inside jokes and secrets between the two. He remembered watching them kiss before the four of them had to leave, and feeling terribly uncomfortable.

Love is something that nauseates everyone but the people involved.

No, that wouldn't do.

He thought, then, of the raid on Miraz's castle, of the clashing of swords in the night, of their solid battle cry: "For Narnia!" He recalled the numerous battles he had fought (and won) at Peter's side as King Edmund the Just. He remembered the feeling of his blood pounding in his ears and that of their enemies' on his sword; in every battle he'd fought, he'd hacked and slashed with only one thought in mind: For Narnia, and for Aslan. There were times where he'd feared for his life, but he'd feared for his country more.

"Love is willing to give up your life for something or someone and putting them before yourself. It's a passion and dedication that drives you to do things you initially thought you couldn't."

He remembered Peter's duel with Miraz. He remembered feeling more anxious than he ever had in his life, and having to stifle the feeling as it wouldn't have done for him to have lost his head. He remembered Lucy telling him how scared they all were when they thought he "wouldn't wake up after breaking The White Witch's wand". Peter refused to speak about the incident, turning away whenever someone brought it up; Susan would get what Edmund felt to be overly emotional ("But Ed, you didn't see yourself, lying sprawled out like that!").

"Love is genuine care for another person's well-being; you want them to be all right when they're not, and would do anything in your power to make them better."

Then he thought of Aslan, and the great, wise face and golden mane blocked out everything else in his mind. He remembered the long talk the Lion had given him after the Narnians had brought him safely back to camp; it seemed many lifetimes ago, but every word remained fresh in his memory. Lucy, during what the Narnians now called The Golden Age, had told him in private that Aslan had in fact died to appease the Deep Magic and save him from The White Witch. Even now, a great surge of emotion came when he thought about it.

"Love is selfless and sacrificial, and probably more beautiful than words can ever describe."

The sound of a single pair of hands clapping brought Edmund back to England. He blinked at the schoolmaster, who was applauding and beaming all over his lined face. One by one, the boys followed suit, until the classroom was filled with a thunderstorm of applause.

"Very nicely put, Mister Pevensie. You may now take your seat."

Piers sneered at him as he sat down numbly.

"Where'd you go over the holidays, Pevensie? Turned you into a right softy, it has."

"Ah, Mister Piers! Up here – in the middle."

And this time, Edmund – although it was a rather unkingly thing for him to do – smirked.