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His room was cold.
His room was cold, to the point of freezing, but Jaina couldn’t tell if the shivers that wracked her small body were due to that, or due to something that she didn’t want to begin to think about.
Her older brother was dead. Derek was gone. He was never coming back. Not to pester her with tales she’d heard a thousand times, nor to bring new ones of the seas beyond what could be seen from the shores of Kul Tiras. Not to be pestered to help her with tricky words in books he’d long since grown out of, but she was still a bit too young for. Not to sing her sea shanties during humid, sleepless nights, and not to listen to her creating brand new ones that he would applaud every single time without fail. Not to tease her, or play with her, or protect her.
He wasn’t coming back at all.
Another sob shook Jaina’s body and she pulled the blankets closer to her. They still smelled of him, as though he’d just gotten out of bed in the early hours of the morning to go sailing and she’d slipped in seamlessly to leech off of his leftover body heat. The slight lingering of sea salt and old parchment typically calmed Jaina, as it reminded her of how often Derek could help her weather a storm. Whether that came in the form of her nightmares, or her terrible fear of thunderstorms, or when their parents were arguing, he had always been a steady guide for Jaina: a lighthouse when it seemed like all else was dark.
And now that had burnt out as well. She was in the dark. Alone. In the weeks since the news of Derek’s death had arrived, Jaina had hardly seen either of her parents. Her father could often be found by his eldest son’s empty grave, but Jaina hated going there. She hated seeing her father, who had always been so strong and proud, shattered. Her mother had buried herself in all the duties of the Lord Admiral that her husband was neglecting, leaving her very little time to be around her youngest two children. Sometimes, Jaina wondered if that was on purpose. She couldn’t count the number of times in her life someone had mentioned how similar she and Derek looked. And if she was a striking image of him, Tandred was his twin, albeit sixteen years his junior.
Tandred. He was four now, having just turned. His birthday party had been one of the last times Jaina had seen her older brother, and she felt a harsh pang of hatred for herself. Why had she focused so much on her little brother, when she had known that Derek was leaving to fight in the Second War? Watching Tandred rip open his presents seemed so trivial now, but she’d even gone as far as to tell Derek to shush so she could watch.
How stupid.
It was as though he’d read her mind, as the squeaky door to Derek’s room was pushed open and light flooded the purposeful darkness that Jaina had immersed herself in. For the briefest of moments, Jaina hoped her mother had come, finally tired of her self-imposed isolation and ready to comfort her now-eldest child. But when tiny footsteps padded across the floor and towards the lump in the massive bed, she knew that was not the case.
“Jaina?” His voice confirmed that it was Tandred who had found her, not the comforting presence of her mother or even the strong one of her father. No, it was her little brother, the one she didn’t want to see right now. When she didn’t respond, light tugs pulled the blanket from off of her feet.
“Jaina!” He was more demanding now, but as a toddler, not enough so that he was able to gather her attention. Especially when she was trying her hardest to ignore him. But her silence didn’t seem to get the message across as, after a few moments, the bed dipped ever so slightly to accommodate for his weight. Tiny hands shook her before tearing the blanket from her body, and Jaina had long since had enough.
Abruptly, she sat upright, only just missing his head with her own, and glared down at him. If he noticed the harsh look on her face, he didn’t say anything, and instead beamed brightly up at his older sister. “You’re up! Wanna play blocks?”
Somehow, his absolute innocence and glee at her being awake infuriated Jaina to no end. It wasn’t fair. Why did he get the privilege of not having to be an utter wreck due to Derek’s death, when that was all she could think about in her waking hours, and all she dreamt about when she slept for maybe three or four hours every night? Why did he so happily get to shrug off Derek’s sudden absence in favor of playing with his damned blocks, of all things? Jaina’s hands squeezed into fists, balling up the blankets she’d piled on top of her, and she made one last attempt at being nice to her younger brother. “Leave me alone.”
He frowned, seeming to consider her words for a moment. She’d never refused to play with him before, especially so blatantly, and Jaina was quickly losing her patience as she watched him make sense of her answer. Finally, he spoke again, asking one simple question that caused even more tears to rise, both in Jaina’s eyes to blind her and throat to choke her. “Why?”
“Why?” She practically snarled, hitting uselessly at the mattress beneath her. Tandred started, clearly shocked by his sister’s sudden outburst, but Jaina paid no attention to his movements as she grasped the nearest pillow and chucked it at the open door. It flew out into the hallway, lost in one of the rooms further down, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. “Why?” She asked again, more sorrow and rage rising in her voice just as it rose in her chest and throat. “There’s nothing here for you! Do you really think I want to play right now? After what happened to Derek?!”
At the sound of his older brother’s name, Tandred perked up, though hesitantly as he tried to avoid any more of his sister’s wrath. “Papa said that Derek’s sailing.”
Before Tandred could move or say another word, Jaina stood quickly, the cold hardwood floor burning the bare bottoms of her feet as one hand clutched at the posts at the foot of Derek’s bed frame and the other, another pillow to her chest. The curiosity and utter unknowing that lit Tandred’s eyes wracked painful sobs from her body, ones that burned her chest and made her throat feel raw within a matter of seconds. She shook, furious with her little brother for not understanding, but more furious with herself for daring to think that he would. That he could. Somewhere deep inside of her, the logical part of Jaina reminded her that Tandred was but a toddler. He couldn’t understand what happened to his brother, nor should he, but that didn’t stop her from chucking the pillow she was holding in his direction regardless. It missed, crashing into Derek’s desk instead and ruining the way he had left it before his journey. Ink spilled, coating multiple maps and other parchments that held his handwriting, and Jaina felt herself shatter even more.
Her world moved in slow motion as she fell to her knees, the pain that shot through them numb compared to how hollow she suddenly felt. “He’s not coming back! He’s never ever coming back here again!” She cried, barely able to choke the words out around the new wails that wracked her body. “He’s dead.” The tears poured down her cheeks out of nowhere, and Jaina resigned herself to staying on the floor. “He’s dead, you stupid baby. He’s dead.”
A new sound joined her wails, and a harsh wave of regret hit Jaina as Tandred rushed toward her. She opened her arms, allowing him to bury his face in her shoulder as she did the same to him. Together, they knelt on the floor, sobbing until no more tears could come, and crying even more after that. Their parents didn’t join them that night, but when Tandred fell asleep, Jaina scooped him up with ease and tucked the both of them into Derek’s bed, where the scent of seawater and ink-stained parchment caused her to silently cry more.