TRUCE

Syaoran was many things. His unorthodox creation destined him for an unusual life from the beginning. His childhood was spent with his adoptive father learning about archeology and how those in other civilizations thought and lived. Meeting Sakura taught him about how to care for someone more than his own life. His stint as a solo excavator after the death of Fujitaka taught him how to function on his own, how to use what he'd learned to the best of his ability. And his adventures with Sakura, Kurogane, Fai and Makona brought all of these together, tightening these aspects into one cohesive unit. He learned to endure, to persevere, to fight with both body and mind, to plan, and what true strength really was - and just how much of it he held. He began life as a lump of metal, deliberately so by Fei Wong Reed; by fate and by his own willpower, however, his body and mind were forged to his own specifications and tempered in the hot flame of experience, and the result, like the sword that hung on his wall after all was said and done, was magnificent indeed.

Unfortunately nothing before could possibly prepare him for the situation he found that he must now endure. Failure was not an option, for it was truly important, and perhaps, save for perhaps the difficult choices at the end of his quest, the trickiest challenge he'd met yet.

Being trapped in his house with King Toya Reed.

Things had started simply enough; he'd wanted a word with the 'brat', as he insisted on calling him - never you mind that that brat was set to marry his sister in days. As anticipated, he was in his house, bustling about and trying to organize his notes for some archaeological project or another. He'd had his fill, and then some, of spelunking around ruins, at least for the time being, particularly towards the end of his adventures. Indeed, he avoided the ancient ruin where this entire mess started almost as though its proximity would injure him, despite the fact that it was little more than an empty shell and curiosity now – one that was rather rapidly being sealed back up, the king none too comfortable with its presence, either. However, that didn't stop his correspondence with colleagues in the area, and at the moment he was looking over some notes and schematics that had been sent to him. The King had, with some grudging politeness (probably henpecked into him by Sakura, no doubt) knocked on the door and was, of course, allowed in (as few, even Syaoran, would have the testicular fortitude to refuse entry to the king of his country). However, they didn't have a chance to actually speak, because soon after, most anything they would have tried to say would have been rather quickly drowned out by the storm.

One might question how a storm could trouble a desert kingdom; after all, they likely would have a minor celebration, as rain would probably be something that happened only once every few years, if that. And indeed, they would have. But this was not a rain storm.

Rather, it was a sand storm.

And while that normally wouldn't entirely inhibit life in the capital city of Clow, the simple fact of the matter was, that this sandstorm was the largest they'd had in a good five years, blotting out the sun and making breathing almost impossible, let alone hearing. So intense was the pounding that the foundations of the building shook slightly. There was no danger; it had been built to withstand such sandstorms. Others hadn't, however, and while the King could be a pain to Syaoran, he was a good ruler who cared for his people's wellbeing, and as such the court mages, after ascertaining that he wasn't in danger, put getting him out of the dwelling to the bottom of their priority list.

Leaving the irate brothers-in-law-to-be to their own devices.

Naturally an awkward silence descended between them. However, fortunately for the two, a distraction soon presented itself in the form of a case of fine Clowian Brandy. One of the best-known exports of the kingdom (and perhaps one of the reasons for its relative prosperity despite the adverse conditions in which it existed), it is little surprise that Syaoran might get some of the good stuff from one of his colleagues for his help and advice on a particularly vexing problem involving magical seals on a tomb in ruins several kingdoms away.

And, being two young men - one not too far departed from his teens, and the other, still late within them - the decision of what to do was unanimous and natural.

"...fifth bottle." said Syaoran, as he peered at the now-empty flask that sat before them. The candlelight flickered gently, the slight shaking of the house not particularly deterring from the atmosphere - after all, one can stare down ones' future brother-in-law almost anyplace. At least, if they were still up to staring - at the moment it's arguable that neither of them were particularly up to looking at anything, at least unless they didn't mind seeing five of it.

"...only?" said Toya, perhaps a little disappointed. The two had split the contents of the previously filled vessels, and although Clowian Brandy was known for its considerable potency, both young men had hoped to show up the other in the ancient rite of drinking a rival under the table. Sadly, though they'd likely never admit to it, neither had much experience in the way of drinking, and as such a true victory for one side seemed to be unlikely, unless the other was planning on passing out at the same time as his opponent would.

"...yep." Syaoran said, not-so-gently depositing the bottle on the pile nearby. Covered in an animal skin for durability, the glass didn't shatter or even crack, landing instead with a slightly dull thud and rolling away to join its mates.

"...that all ya got in ya, Brat?..."

"Hardly," said Syaoran, somewhat dizzily reaching for a sixth bottle, depositing it soundly on the table before them. The contest for who could do the most damage to their liver was not yet over. "Though I gotta ask, Toya," said Syaoran - realizing that the drunkenness had loosened his tongue. Not that he was sober enough to care.

"'szat?..."

"...why'd ya always call me 'Brat'?"

"S'whatcha are." Toya said, pushing the glass forward. The brownish liquid was deposited somewhat sloppily into the receptacle, splattering a bit as Syaoran's honed aim from years of battle and pouring drinks to make cash on the side was no longer so honed.

"Not much of 'n answ'r." Syaoran said, pouring his own glass, trying to make sure he had just a bit more than Toya. Unfortunately for him, he did, but that extra margin ended up on the table.

"...no, it in'n't." says Toya, looking at Syaoran through slightly glassy eyes - but there was enough to reveal he still had some sense about him. He was not yet falling down blathering drunk, even though his edges had been eroded. "I'll tellya somethin'." he said, looking down to his drink, suddenly serious - perhaps more serious with Syaoran than he ever was before in a situation not requiring immediate life-or-death action. "Mom... she died aft'r Sakura was born. Sakura... r'minded me o' her, I guess. Guess she did fer dad, too, an' when he... disappeared..." That was the best way to describe it, at least, knowing what he knew now; Syaoran's quest had more than a few revelations about that particular tidbit in it. "...Sakura was all I had left." He swallowed some of the drink, perhaps wanting more liquid courage to continue; though he loathed to admit it, somehow he felt he owed the brat an explanation to some degree. "...then this foreign kid tha' Fujitaka dragg'd in from the street from gods-know where comes in an' he's ALL she talks about. Ever. Sneakin' out to see him. They ain't even ten years old yet, not 'nuff to have a crush, 'least what I thought." He leaned back slightly. He exhaled. "...can' say I liked it. A brat that's messin' 'round with royalty an' a girl outta his league, pissin' off th' king..." he shakes his head. "Stuff outta a damn fairy tale, hardly works out in real life, tho'."

Syaoran was silent for a moment.

"'course, then I found out he wuz you, an' I knew tha' you were a brat anyway." Toya said, a faint smirk on his face. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was something vaguely akin to male bonding going on here, and a little bit of Toya's human side was coming out thanks to the massive amounts of alcohol thus imbibed.

"...guess I c'n und'rstand that." Syaoran said, taking a long sip of his own drink, cringing slightly, causing Toya to snort in amusement slightly. Syaoran had even less experience drinking than Toya had, and almost none with stuff as strong as this, but he still put up a brave front.

"Still a Brat..." Toya said in amusement... and then his voice grew more somber. "...c'n see why ya fell for Sakura, tho'."

"...yeah." Syaoran said, solidly. That was one thing in their conversation that needed no explanation. "Ain't no girl like 'er, an' I've been ta just about every kinda world you can imagine." 'Ain't?' questioned part of his mind, the tiny, tiny bit that wasn't soaked in alcohol, the one that was shocked that he'd use such a word, if one can consider "ain't" a word.. The rest of it, however, drunkenly pounded that part of his mind into silence, telling it (amidst the beating that would undoubtedly manifest as the horrid headache he was in for come the hangover) that saying anything else would require too many syllables and therefore too much effort. After all, one must save their strength to drink even more.

"I c'n believe that," said Toya, staring at his drink. The slightly tense, rivalry-laden atmosphere was gone for a moment. This was perhaps the first - and only - time he'd had a true conversation with Toya of anything other than the immediately pragmatic. "Even without those damn feath'rs, she... she was special. Knew that from th' first time I saw 'er."

Syaoran inclined his head in interest.

"...oh," said Toya, as he leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. "I wuz... ten, at th' time, I s'pose. Woudln't expect a damn prince to give much of a damn 'bout a baby sist'r, 'least at that age... an' Father took me inta th' room. I expect'd 'er to be like all the oth'r babies." He slurred a bit, as the drink affected his mind more, but he forced himself to continue, forcing the words to form with more sense. "An' then... she jus' looked up, and smiled, an'..." he shook his head.

A pause as both took another sip of their drinks.

"Wasn't like any oth'r baby, jus' lookin' around like they're tryin' to figure out wheth'r or not they oughta try ta suck yer nose like it's some pacifier." Toya continued. "She was... special, she… seemed ta know ya were there, an'..." He sighed quietly. "...she was my li'l sister." He smiled a bit, an odd thing to see on the king's face - it was sincere, and almost... sad?...

Silence descended as the pair were lost in thoughts, or what passed as thoughts in the bog of booze that was now their minds.

"...y'know..." said Syaoran, starting quietly, but picking up in volume. "...I think... I think she figur'd out who I was to her... aft'r jus' a few feath'rs." He paused for a moment. "Hell, maybe ev'n after she woke up aft'r th' second. Pro'lly, knowin' 'er, 'least she s'spected. No matt'r what that damn witch said..." his voice grew gravely for a moment; his bitterness towards the interference of the time witch was deep, but intense. He could not help but view her to be little better than a mercenary, and perhaps more realistically mildly sadistic, at least. "Kept on jus' pushin' that damn barrier 'round her thoughts around, too." he said, a faint smirk of... pride?... across his features. "Figur'd out she couldn't try to r'member me directly, so she jus' start'd tryin' to figure things out from the clues... 'n one thing led to 'nother..." his voice drifted off.

"That's m'girl," said Toya, a little bit of a grin on his face. "Teachers always said she was a savant... or somethin' 'long those lines. Looked like she was kinda bubble-headed... 'n sometimes she was, but... when somethin' came up that she cared 'bout, or needed 'er... sharp as a tack." He leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

Silence descended for a few moments.

"Ya know, brat... I still hate yer guts."

Syaoran nodded slightly. "Fig'r'd." One drunken night of male bonding does not make up for over a decade of animosity. Truth be told, he only expected the jealousy to worsen in the next few days, before Sakura truly became more his than Toya's. Though the reward was undoubtedly worth it, he was not looking forward to the ulcers it would no doubt nurse along to painful maturation in his stomach lining, nor the henpecking that he would no doubt receive from his beloved over it. However, he also knew Toya would endure it as well, a thought that would have made Syaoran smile...

"...but I r'spect ya, too."

...had this particular bombshell not fallen right on the teen's head. Syaoran dropped his jaw slightly, blinking and looking at the booze as if to try to verify just how much he drank. To be told by Toya that he respected you... rare. He wasn't sure there were ten people in the whole kingdom he thought that of, and he wasn't sure he'd told that to more than three or four, two of those being Sakura herself and Yukito.

"...if ya ev'r r'peat that I'll slug ya, an' I'll say ya' took a few too many whacks t' th' head if you ever ask me when I'm sober," said Toya, staring at the ceiling still. Somehow, despite the booze... some part of him thought, to some extent, for saving Sakura and his kingdom... he owed him this much. Even though, he noted gravely to himself, this would probably somehow get back to Sakura. He silently grimaced at the thought of his tough image to his little sister faltering, but knowing well he had a debt to Syaoran that he might never be able to repay, he pressed onwards. "...but... ya made Sakura fall fer ya twice, or 'least figure out who ya were an' still stick to ya ev'n though she didn't have no d'rect memories... saved this 'ere kingdom... an'... well, pro'lly faced down jus' 'bout the worst odds I could ev'r think 'bout. An'... I think..." He added this part quietly - already regretting saying it despite the booze after he'd said it...

"...I think that I couldn't pick uh bett'r husband for 'er, ev'n if I looked at all o' those worlds ya two're always talkin' 'bout"

Syaoran just stared, alternating his gaze between Toya, who still stared at the ceiling as he was unable to look Syaoran in the eye as he said this, and the brandy, wondering if perhaps it had gone bad. Maybe he was hallucinating, or perhaps even having one of those 'stroke' things he read about in another world's medical literature one time he needed to learn about the first aid the natives used.

Before he could raise up his finger to test his vision, however, Toya's normal demeanor snapped into place quickly, perhaps making up for its time away in redoubled intensity. "'course, you're still a brat t' me, an' if you make 'er unhappy I'll turn ya inta paste, saving the damn kingdom or not."

Syaoran managed a slight, small smile. "I hope ya would."

Though Syaoran couldn't be sure about it, and maybe it was the wind rattling the house again, but he could have sworn later - at least, with what he could remember through the haze of alcohol which soaked the memories - he heard Toya whisper something... almost... "Don't think I hafta worry 'bout that, tho'."

Syaoran made no comment, knowing that those words were almost certainly not intended for his ears. Silence reigned for a moment. The younger man broke it. "Truce?..."

Silence reigned for another moment.

"Truce." came a slightly reluctant reply from the man on the other side of the table.

--

The morning after, the streets were covered in sand still. And of course, Sakura was worried sick out of her mind. Though the mages had used scrying spells to locate the two most important men in her life, and verify that they were alright, the princess's nature was to worry, and worry she did, especially since this was likely the longest she'd spent separated from Syaoran in quite a while, and she didn't like that one bit. As such, she focused on the task at hand, trying to get through the clogged streets as quickly as possible. Not particularly caring about the mess she made, she waved her hand sharply as she jogged, the mounds of sand still blocking the roadways dispersing into a cloud as the invisible projected magic force struck them, allowing her to move without trudging through knee-deep in the stuff.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she reached Syaoran's house. No movement. None whatsoever. The windows were still storm-shuttered, even though the storm had been over a few hours ago and most of the populace, unable to get decent sleep, had long since begun digging themselves out. She bit her lip slightly. Though her instincts weren't going like crazy like they tended to whenever Syaoran was in danger, she nevertheless worried about them both. She banged on the door. "SYAORAN! TOYA!" she called out, knocking loudly. No answer.

She closed her eyes, mentally swearing, even though she'd probably never actually utter the word aloud except in the most dire of circumstances. She fished around in her pouch. Where was it... ah. A small piece of metal glinted in the dawn sunlight - a key. She quickly shoved it in, unlocking the door with a click, and rushed in, to find --

Syaoran and Toya. Heads down on the table, six empty bottles of Clowian Brandy nearby and half of a seventh still on the table.

Snoring. Loudly.

She stared for a moment, eyes wide. They're safe. She repeated this to herself several times. They're safe. They're safe. Mentally she chastised herself, worrying for nothing. Of course they're fine, they're two warriors who've lived in the desert all their lives... she let out a breath, saying a quick prayer to any deity who might be watching over her two men ('my two idiots', she thought privately, though affectionately) in thanks, anyway.

She couldn't help, however, as she approached, looking at the two for a moment. They'd obviously got staggeringly - literally - drunk, and fell asleep at some point, probably in a macho contest to see who could down the most without getting sick. She wasn't sure who the winner was, though she suspected if there was one, neither would remember, and probably wouldn't care considering the headache they were bound to have. Though the looks on their faces didn't have the... animosity she might have expected, even in their sleep. The thought that perhaps, they did more than drink, and actually TALKED, actually crossed her mind. She shook her head to herself, as she began moving for the kitchen to boil up some coffee for the two, hoping to circumvent some of the headache and inevitable bickering.

Nevertheless, as she glanced back... the thought of the two actually talking to each other... perhaps it was a vain hope, but it's one she held out nonetheless.

And at the thought of the two doing so while drunk... unlikely as it may have been... left the princess, as she gazed upon her husband to be and her brother, unable to suppress a small, yet sincere, giggle.

This came out of nowhere a few weeks ago and I finally had the gumption to slap it together in about an hour or so, without a beta reader. Hope that doesn't show, and hopefully Toya didn't come off as out of character, though I'd like to think I did a decent job with Syaoran and Sakura. Still workin' on that other chapter or two for Naive, Not Stupid (you might want to read that one if you're a little confused on the Sakura-figures-out-who-Syaoran-is points, a theory that I'm probably going to explore further in other fics I write). Already have one chapter written, but that goes after the current one I'm working on. Thanks to those who've read and reviewed my stuff so far - I appreciate it a lot! Please lemme know what you think about this one, it's what keeps me going.

EDIT: I've changed a few things here and there, mostly spelling errors and the like that particularly grated me. For some reason I had a lot of them in here. Ugh. I also changed a few bits here and there and changed some wording to make things more clear. Here's hoping they actually helped.