A/n: Hello Everyone,

Gosh! I am so blown away by all your lovely reviews. Thank you so much for both them and the favs/follows. I am glad that you all enjoyed it.

This chapter is in Susan's POV. It came out differently than I thought it would, but I hope you all enjoy it. Once again, anything in bold is taken directly from Valiant's fic or paraphrased from it, and I apologize for any grammatical mistakes. Edmund's chapter should be up next, but it might be a while. I have a few other projects I am working on along with this one. Real Life and college also demand my attention. I will try to get it done as quickly as possible though!

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ChecktheGate:Thank you for your kind words. They meant so much to me, especially because the reason I've never written for Narnia is because I felt inadequate. I didn't want to mess up what Lewis was so kind to leave us. I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

Iori Blue: Oh! You definitely should go and read Valiant's fic! It is amazing and I promise, it is not a bad crossover AT ALL. I've read bad ones myself and so I was a little hesitant when I first clicked on it. However, Valiant has done more than blow my expectations away. She has such a way with her words; she made it seem as if the Pevensie's had been born in Panem, as if they belonged there, instead of being superimposed on another storyline.

Edmund's wit and sarcasm is one of the things I loved about him. However, in this instance I think he would tame it down. He's just taken Peter's place as tribute and knows he is likely to die in the next few weeks. I think that would be enough to temper anyone's wit.

Lucy should be coming up soon. I plan on doing a POV chapter for each of the four. Her's will probably be last though, since Edmund has been bugging me all week to write his and I'm not quite sure yet what I want to do for Lucy's chapter.

Thank you for the encouragement!

Aslan'sMane: I'm glad you loved it! That is an amazing story ideas; thank you so much for sharing it with me and for thinking that I am good enough to do it justice. However, at this moment, I am swamped with projects and so cannot take on another one at the moment. I wish I could though!

Chickencomes1st: I love your username! I've had that discussion many times with friends and family. Thank you for your encouragement. I hope this next chapter lives up to your expectations!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own it… If I did, the next movie would have come out a long time ago. :/

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Peter's face is white as a sheet as he steps from the crowd of eighteen-year-old boys. My heart breaks for him. We are in the same situation, forced to leave our siblings behind to fend for themselves in a world where no one but us care. I can see in his eyes the same fear that rests in my chest — not fear for ourselves, though that is present, but fear for our siblings' futures. We had the ability to protect them this year, but we are both destined to die in the games. What if next year their names are pulled and there is no one there to step forward, to accept the blow meant for them?

He is almost to the bottom of the stage — ten feet left between him and the bottom step — when a voice calls out.

It is trembling, barely able to be heard even in the stillness of the crowd, but it is there.

"I volunteer!"

Edmund Leonidas is all but shoving people aside to join his brother. Lucy stands, hands over her mouth and eyes wide.

"I volunteer." This time his voice rings clearly, and it has deepened. It carries with it more than a hint of authority, and I find myself turning to him almost instinctually. I have to blink my eyes a few times because of the vision of intense passion I see as he walks towards us.

He is still Edmund Leonidas, but, somehow, he is… more. His eyes flash with wisdom and an understanding so deep it is matched only by the eyes of the Lion I sometimes see in my dreams. He stands in blue and silver robes with a sword strapped to his side. It is not hard to imagine him as a fearful, yet fair judge.

I look over at Peter. There is absolutely no way to describe his pallor. A lifetime's worth of emotions flit across his cerulean eyes. They flash with such rage I step back involuntarily. Edmund has walked near enough to reach, and Peter doesn't waste one second.

He seizes Edmund by the collar of his shirt and shakes him to the sound of Tyla's scream. Caspian tries to dislodge Peter's vice-like grip, but the older Leonidas boy holds on, red-faced, shaking with rage and looking murderous.

"I'm going to kill you!" He snarls. "You bloody idiot! Why! I could kill you right now!"

I hear the words, but they do not match what I see in his eyes. Pain — pain that mirrors the expression he wore the day Lucy and I found him in the forest hunched over Edmund, crying and desperately trying to keep his brother alive. It is almost the same situation, I realize, for Edmund has no hope of winning the games. He has been dealt another death blow — only this time he took it on willingly, and there is nothing Peter or anyone can do to fix it.

Caspian makes a move towards the brothers, gesturing with his head towards the guards. I turn to look at him, pleading with my eyes for him to allow them just a little more time. Just a few more seconds to hold each other, to comfort each other for what will probably be the last time.

We stare at each other, neither willing to break the eye contact. Then, Caspian's shoulders slump and he nods slightly. The guards back off at some unseen signal, leaving the two brothers standing in front of the stage.

I walk over to them after a few seconds, tugging on Peter's shirt, "Peter, let go of your brother." I whisper. He simply tightens his grip on Edmund's shoulder. "You can't hurt a tribute before the games. They'll punish you!"

The truth of what I just said hits me like one of the miners' pickaxes. Tribute. That is what we have become. I am not Susan anymore than he is Edmund. We are tributes, to be sent to the Capital as sacrifices for their entertainment.

I see the same thoughts flit through Peter's eyes. Many emotions wage for dominance within their stormy depths. Regret and guilt seem to be the strongest for they are what I see the most. It confuses me. What could Peter have done to be sorry about?

Edmund seems to know. "It's all right, Peter." He whispers. The words are so soft, I barely catch them. He reaches a hand up and cups Peter's cheek. "It's my turn to protect you now."

I turn away, guilt sitting in my chest. Those words, that moment, had been meant for Peter and Peter alone. Though it had not been intentional, I feel like an intruder.

I walk quickly up onto the platform and gaze out over the crowd until I find Lucy. She is still standing where Edmund left her. Her hands have left her mouth, but tears still sit in her eyes. Her expression though, has changed.

Gone is the fear that had sat in her eyes when I volunteered. Gone is the pain that had entered them as first Peter then Edmund walked towards the platform. In their place sit determination and trust.

I catch her gaze, and the courage falters for a moment before returning. She smiles at me, though it trembles at the corners. Slowly, she raises her right hand, placing it over her heart with her thumb, pointer finger, and pinky raised.

Tears come to my eyes yet again. It is our special sign. Lucy insisted we make one when she was 6 years old "because that's what best friends do, Susan, and we're best friends so we have to have one!". We have used it often over the years, to bolster each other spirits, to apologize after an argument, or just because. It means I love you and I am here for you and I will never leave you.

I return the gesture as I feel Edmund settle into place beside me. I subconsciously step closer to him, bumping our shoulders together as Tyla steps once more to center stage.

"District 12, I present your tributes!" She shouts gesturing at us.

I inhale sharply as reality sinks further in. Tributes.

"Lion, protect them." Edmund whispers next to me.

I scoff silently. Prayers won't save either them or us. Only by the intervention of someone else will our siblings be protected in the upcoming years, and it is only through a miracle that we will even live to see the next month.