A/N: Hello all! This is the first of a series of drabbles about Narnia and the Pevensies during the Golden Age, from Year 1000 to Year 1015. I've labeled each drabble to make it a little more clear as to when they occur, because they won't be in order.

Many of the drabbles will also have the character Julia Keating/Tempestra, from the fic The Call (this is a kind of sequel for Julia, but a prequel for the Pevensies). I would encourage you to read it if you haven't already (so that you can understand these better) but it's not necessary. All you have to know is that Julia is a former thief and current vigilante from modern-day Earth and was brought into Narnia during the events of the movie Prince Caspian. Her experiences are opposite of the Pevensies' - she fought alongside the Narnians against the Telmarines during the Narnian Revolution/Civil War in the Year 2303, went back to Earth, then was brought back into Narnia in the Year 1001, right after the Narnians had defeated the White Witch.

Warning: This fic will contain a lot of feels.

Year 1015

The moment Peter stepped through the wardrobe into Narnia had completely changed his life; it stood to reason that the moment he stepped through the wardrobe back into Earth, it would do the same. This time, however, he was a different person. But Earth was exactly the same.

They told the professor about their lives and adventures in Narnia. He escorted them into his study, served them tea, then listened as they explained what exactly they had been doing in the wardrobe. Peter remembered the expressions that had crossed the professor's face while he listened: excitement, amusement, curiosity, even - fleetingly - sadness.

When they finished, the professor had Mrs. Macready bring dinner into the study, just that once. She had bustled in with their trays, glowering at them as they stared at her, barely remembering her and entirely unaware of the reason why she glared so. It took the professor's reminder about their ball game and a broken window for them to understand. For them, it had happened fifteen years ago; a small, insignificant event. For the professor and Mrs. Macready, it had happened mere hours ago.

When they finally decided to go to bed, the professor had to show them back to their room, lest Mrs. Macready grow suspicious as to why they couldn't remember such an ordinary thing. After some confusion and searching, they found and donned their pajamas, climbed into bed, and settled down. Peter knew they all had to be thinking about how scratchy the blankets and how lumpy the mattresses were - especially compared with their individual Narnian bedrooms set with lavish four-poster, king-sized beds - but none of them mentioned it aloud. They were too tired to talk after getting into bed, and slowly, one by one, they fell asleep.

But Peter stayed awake. There were too many thoughts running through his mind, though his body ached for sleep. But his heart - oh, his heart - it ached even more fiercely. While they had been talking to the professor , he had been too engrossed in the story-telling to think about what had happened. But now, as he lay there in the darkness and silence with only his thoughts to occupy him, realization began to dawn on him. And with it came regret and despair.

He was in his dressing gown and shoes, and halfway down the hallway, before he realized what he was doing. He only hesitated in front of the door for a moment before lifting the latch, opening the door, and stepping inside the room.

It was still there. Peter had half-expected the wardrobe to have disappeared after they had left the room, but there it still was: large, solid, and carved intricately out of dark wood. Its presence seemed both terrifying and reassuring, and Peter found himself taking a deep breath before approaching it. Upon closer inspection, he saw that there were elaborate pictures carved into the door and sides: a blazing sun over water, a forest, two royals, an apple, two rings, a bird, a mountain, a horse, a tree, two crowns, a bell, a castle, and - he saw with a jolt - two lion heads.

But this time, there was something different about the wardrobe. When he and his siblings had opened the wardrobe and crossed into Narnia, it had felt almost alive. Now, it was just as when he had seen it the first time - still and dead. He placed his hand on the latch, but he did not need to open the door to know that there would be only winter coats inside.

"Did you leave something?"

Peter jumped, startled, and whirled around to see the professor leaning against the wall next to the door, facing him. He was smoking a pipe and regarding the young man thoughtfully, his sharp eyes peering over the spectacles perched low on his nose.

"I haven't been startled like that in a long time," Peter told the old man ruefully, removing his hand from the wardrobe. The professor just smiled and straightened from his position against the wall.

"And I assume you've lived for very long?" he remarked dryly. When Peter's gaze became somber, the professor asked quietly, "How old are you, Peter?"

"Thirty-one, sir," was the quick reply.

The old man looked at him almost pitylingly.

"Not anymore," he said gravely, and Peter's heart plummeted. He was right, of course - Peter was not a man anymore. He was only a boy. He was not old enough to vote or go to war. Returning from Narnia had de-aged him and his siblings drastically, something that they had yet to fully comprehend or adjust to. They would have to grow up all over again.

Peter turned to gaze longingly back at the wardrobe. He reached up, and his fingers softly traced the carvings of the two crowns framed by leafy branches.

"Did you leave something, then?" the professor asked from behind him, and Peter's shoulders sagged.

"I left someone."