A/n: This chapter was inspired by a nasty encounter I had with a Christian author on this site, whose snottiness and pretentious attitude were not only incredibly nauseous and maddening, but excellent literary fodder.

If that Christian author happens to read this, all I can say is: Thank you. You've inspired some of the most important fiction I've ever written. Clearly, you're not the only one who's benefited from your literary masturbation. That said, my offer still stands: If you humble yourself and get off your goddamn pedestal, and start interacting with me as if we were friends sharing a meal—which is what I still want—I'll unblock you and we can have a better conversation than the travesty we had before.

I'm not holding my breath, though.

Edmund glared at the cheetah. "You do know I'm a King, right?"

The cat sat on the arm rest of the throne, glancing away in a heroic effort to avoid eye contact. "Unfortunately, I do know. See, I hoped I would be educating a monarch, but it's clear that I'm arguing with a silly child. You have no knowledge of the Lion's ways, and you have no interest in procuring further knowledge. You just want to pride yourself on what little you know so you don't have to be bothered to learn anything new."

"That's not what I said."

"Oh, and by the way," said the cheetah with an even snottier tone: "When both parties are speaking, you are talking with someone. However, when you are the only party speaking, you are talking to someone. That is rather a different thing, don't you think?"

Edmund sighed and leaned his head against the back of his throne. "I might as well be the only one talking," he muttered. "Unless you want me to keep blowing words into the wind, may we get back to the topic at hand?"

"Which is what? How studying Aslan is too painful for you?"

"No. Like I said a minute ago, and two minutes ago, and five minutes ago while you were grooming your ears: I said it's embarrassing."

The cheetah gave a pitiless smile. "You're learning about the same Lion who brought you to this world and made you King, and you find it embarrassing to learn about him. Why ever would that be? That Lion has done more for you than any man, any woman, any Talking Beast could do, would do, and would ever dream to do. The least you could do is give him a little courtesy and learn about him—"

"Will you quit bloviating? I already know all that."

The cheetah paused and stared down at him for a moment, then lifted his shoulders in something of a shrug. "Well, then, allow me to defer to your judgment, even though you haven't read many books in your life. Certainly nothing of any cultural significance, and nothing powerful enough to tame the beast of a heart within you."

"I am literate, all right? I'm happy to learn and to read. But I'm having a hard time with the laws of Aslan, and it's all because I was a traitor."

"I see. The Lion places demands on you, and you don't want to meet them."

"That's not what I said. Maybe if you'd listen for once, maybe even try and comprehend what's coming out of my mouth, you'd know what I said."

The cheetah looked even more annoyed, but he didn't reply. He broke eye contact and went about grooming a paw.

"Are you even going to look me in the eye?" said Edmund. "Do you have any respect for those of us above your station?"

"I respect you," said the cheetah in a distant tone. "If I didn't, I wouldn't be speaking to you in my dignified and delicious articulation."

'Dignified and delicious' my arse, Edmund thought. Every word out of your mouth smacks of self-importance and tastes like poison.

"Besides," said the cheetah, "I'm not a dullard. I can groom myself and listen to your tirade at the same time."

Edmund scowled and shook his head. "All right, then. If you care to know why it's hard for me to read about Aslan, I'll tell you. It's because I was a traitor to my brother and sisters. I sold them out for a sweet. My crime was so bad, Aslan had to die for me. A chap has to be certain kind of beastly for him to do that, and I am that kind of beastly and more. Reading the laws of Aslan is like having a looking-glass in my face: it shows me how good he is and how bad I am. I don't like what I'm looking at, I haven't liked it in a long time, and I don't know how long it'll be before I start to change."

The cheetah didn't acknowledge that he had listened. He kept staring at his paw, flexing his claws and making sure every hair was just as he wanted it. "Well, I suppose it would be rather unsettling to have all one's flaws pointed out—especially when one has so many flaws that it's hard to keep count."

"Not that you'd know," said Edmund.

"And sure enough, it has been a while since any of flaws were pointed out, so I suppose I have forgotten what it's like. But I do remember—there was this one time during the Long Winter. It was rather embarrassing. Oreius was rambling on about how wondrous it was for snow to pass through warm air and survive the trip to the ground. I reminded him (correctly) that the air must be cold all the way to the ground; otherwise, if it passes through a warm layer and melts and then freezes again, it's called sleet. But silly me! I'd forgotten that if the warm air is thick enough so that the rain freezes at the last second, you get—aptly enough—freezing rain. Ha! how silly I was, forgetting my lessons like that…"

Edmund glowered at him. "I'll bet that was humiliating."

"Oh, it certainly was. After all, how can you bring any glory to the Lion when you don't even know about the world he made?"

"Yes, I reckon that would be embarrassing. Certainly a travesty when compared with the real faults you have..."

The cheetah lifted his head and swung back to Edmund. "Meaning?"

"You have all your books and knowledge and trivia, but you don't know him. You don't know what it's like to do something so awful that you wish you could crawl into a hole and die. You don't know what it's like to have the Lion look you in the face, tell you that you're loved, and despite everything you did, despite how beastly you were, wants to call you, 'My son.'"

The cheetah turned away and snickered. "That's what this conversation is about, isn't it: 'I'm a traitor, and now I'm a king, so I know Aslan better than any true Narnian ever will'?"

"That's not what I said!"

"Well, I suppose I don't have to waste any more time...seeing as how you know everything that's worth knowing..."

Just then, a mighty voice rumbled in the hall. "You still have a job to do, Saddiq," Aslan said. "I advise you to see it through."

Edmund's heart leapt with joy. Oh, Saddiq thinks he's as grand and majestic as the Lion Himself. Well, let's see him stand up to a real cat...

"Aslan, do you hear what he's saying?" said Edmund. "He's acting like I shouldn't be here. He's treating me like I'm too stupid to be on the throne. I had some abysmal schoolmasters in Finchley, but hands down he's the worst tutor I've ever had. And I'm not saying I deserve better, but I'd rather learn from someone I trust."

The Lion conceded it with a nod. "And yet, he knows me."

"…What?!"

"You may resent him for his boasting, but you must let him boast. There are things you could learn from him."

"Like what? How to be an arrogant little shite?!"

The Lion went stern. "Profanity does not become you, child. Be worthy of your calling and never use that word again." And with a cold stare, he swung his muscular bulk away and slunk down the hall on silent paws.

The cheetah sat taller and prouder, and his face went a nauseating shade of smug. "Well, isn't that interesting? You accuse me of arrogance and conceit and not knowing anything worthwhile about Aslan—and then you're humbled and educated by the Lion himself. Such delicious irony, don't you think?"