They stayed silent and still for what felt an eternity. The room was huge, uncannily ominous in its grandness and lavishness. There were riches and bright trinkets everywhere, yet when she moved at last it was not to bask and dive onto the piles of gold.

Olve was not the one who had the matches, and so, he did not dare venture yet past the shadows that the hoards were casting. When the little glimmer of the match inevitably died, she was fast to spark another. Her eyes had scanned the room warily, and she noticed some unlit torches by a wall.

When light engulfed the room, she did not feel the same reassurance as him. Both did roam forward between the piles of treasure towards the second huge stony door, yet he did so with much more hope. It was a foolish feeling, which he soon lost.

“It won’t open, boy.”

She gave up examining the closed passage, the only apart from the one that let them in. Meanwhile, he ignored her remark and kept tapping the nearby walls and engravings on the door.

“It must, otherwise, how are we supposed to leave this-?”

“We are not meant to.” She could have pointed her sword at him by now. If she did not, it was because there was no point in getting into a scuffle. He would not go anywhere. Neither would she. “The natives have sacred troves underground. That trap was there to ensure no one steals from this reserve…”

Olve turned around slowly, after punching the door without result. His next whisper was quite alarmed, for he noticed the concerned look in Barbara’s eyes.

“There has to be a way out.”

“Oh, there is.” She showed her teeth in a bitter smirk, glaring holes through him. “Sadly for us, the opening mechanism is past that huge door. I don’t know what will be worse, to starve, or be freed by those savages.”

With that, she sat down by a wall, kicking some coins at her feet. He stared at her for some seconds, but then shook his head in incredulity.

“You are going to sit there and do nothing?”

“I’ve told you; the mechanism is out there. We’re trapped. I’ll simply hope that my crew is following our tracks.”

He did not like that possibility either. His eyes soon trailed the hoards, which were composed of everything that the natives considered precious. Anything that shone or was made of metal, they took here.

Barbara raised an eyebrow when Olve snatched a steel pickaxe from the ground. Although they hated each other with great intensity, neither bothered to hint any aggression. Instead of trying to take away her sword, he faced the door again, holding the tool angrily.

“I’m getting out. No hunger or uncivilized fiends shall stop me.”

With that sneaky insult towards her kind, he got to work. She simply scoffed while the pickaxe was swung onto the black stone, and soon mocked his passionate efforts.

“Good luck. Might take you a year to make more than a dent on that thing.”

Indeed, it did not take long for him to notice how strong the stone of the ruins was. It was crafted centuries ago, with the very same magma that flowed deep below, mixed with metals and minerals that the tribe collected.

A mere tool like the one he held would not break through the door, yet he kept hitting it like if it could. She began to count coins while he struggled, ignoring how his breaths became more laboured with each minute that passed. By the time he was panting and huffing, she had put some in her pockets, while she daydreamed of spending them at a tavern.

The two had to let go of their hopes. After two hours, he finally surrendered, defeated by exhaustion. The pickaxe fell from his hands and he had to lean against the door. Surprisingly, he did manage to make a dent on the surface, but it was so small that one had to squint to see it.

“I must… get through…”

There was a soft chuckle as he panted those words, derisive and quite insulting. He turned a little to glare at her, only to see her sprawled on a pile of golden and silver coins, staring at the dark ceiling like if it was a bright sky.

“You are sweating like a pig, you know? I really do not want to spend days in here with your stench, so stop already.” The heat of the magma reached this room, and it did not do them any favours. “Sit there like a good boy and wait. It’s the only thing you can do, and your best bet.”

He smirked back at her, hating how she displayed a confident and sneering demeanour, even while trapped.

“I won’t take any chances while stuck here. You could slit my throat if I dare doze off for a second.”

“I could do that right now, even if you grab that silly tool again.” She rolled a little on the pile to look down at him, letting her head rest on her hand as she took an elegant and prideful posture. “Why tire myself? If those savages come knocking, we are dead. If my crew finds these ruins, we have you cornered. If neither show up… the trinket will end up forgotten, like our rotting remains.”

She was very trusting of herself, but it was undeniable that many things were against her. He was buff, and taller; in a fair fight, he could probably beat her. It was something he obviously pondered.

“You seem quite calm, considering your luck.” He taunted her, as bitter as her. “Don’t you fear what you may find if you perish? Or perhaps, you do not regret any of your sins…”

“Oh, why should I fret right now? I have entertainment with your silly rambles, and my life has always been a gamble! I will worry when the time comes.” She suddenly scowled, still smirking but eyeing him maliciously. “In other circumstances, I would worry about being trapped with a sailor who rarely sees land. But honestly, your mellow demeanour does not match your sturdy appearance that well. Am I perhaps… mistaken?”

Those last words, they were both inquiring and accusing. She was truly piercing him with her eyes, and for once, he did fear it. His comrades would have perhaps lashed out at her, yelling multiple expletives. He, on the other hand, almost cowered. He was not sure if to defend his decency or try to suggest he could harm her.

“W-what the hell are you even implying, you darn-“

There was another laugh, and she stopped glaring. With another small roll, she made herself more comfortable on the pile of gold, finally sure of a fact she suspected.

“This is just so funny. You truly were the cabin boy, weren’t you?” His eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in anger. She crossed a very dangerous line, which she was not aware of. “That old sleazy captain had some secrets in his closet, huh? That’s why he trusted you with the keys! You two-“

She shut up when something hit her head, thrown with a furious growl. Her green eyes blinked multiple times, for the force of the hit made her tumble down the pile of gold and onto the hard ground. She was not hurt that much, but she still leaned her head to stare at the emerald that was flung at her, now fallen at her side.

“Don’t you dare speak of him in such ways!” Olve snarled deeply, clenching a fist so much that he almost drew blood. Barbara sat up a little as he yelled, with hate clear in his eyes. “He was the most admirable man I’ve ever met! Took me out of the streets when no one else would! Gave me a chance to join the royal navy, overlooking the faults he knew I held! He was the closest thing I had to a father, and I swear, I won’t doubt to make you pay for his murder if you dare let out another word!”

Luckily for her, he had not seen her shoot his old mentor. She made sure to keep that detail concealed, letting him think it was her crew who took him down. And indirect killing, which would keep him from taking her life now. It was vital that she kept her cool, something she did.

“He wore a mask to conceal his gentleness, hmm?” His glare did not soften, but he did not lash out as she whispered, much more warily and carefully. “You wear one too, although somewhat differently. There’s fear, I sense it.”

He felt insulted, but his mind knew there was truth in those words. She was not mocking him, simply stating facts with a serious contemplative tone.

“There’s no such thing. I do not fear what you or your crew-“

“What about yours?” His flinch was her answer. She did not pry more, leaning against another pile while she brushed the small bruise on her forehead. “Ever since you left the streets, you have not felt like you belong. Eager to serve, not quite close to your comrades, apart from your captain. Am I right? Why else would you want to protect that trinket so much, if not to prove some sort of worthiness?”

“It is my oath, as a soldier loyal to the kingdom, to serve the queen.” He closed his eyes and tried to reassure himself, of something he had told himself too many times. “Thanks to their guidance, we-“

“Their stupid laws and politics are exactly why you were in the streets, you idiot.” Barbara swung a gem as well, but not at him, but a wall. There was resentment in her next words, remembrance as well. “They only care about their taxes, castles, and expanding ownership of land. We pirates do steal, yes, but so do they. The colonies were perfectly fine before their nasty armies marched through and set their flags. Sure, that little prince did not murder any rebels and protestors directly, but his hands were bloody all the same. Many families are torn for simply wishing to oppose the new enforced government. Crime is common, brought by necessity. In turn, the dungeons and gallows are very frecuented. Ah, I do wonder if you ever met your father or mother. Did you?”

He stayed silent, for he had no memory of them. Before he could speak and talk, some kind beggars took care of him. But only until he could fend for himself. No one ever knew where he came from, for there were many orphans like him.

Part of him did resent those times, but his gratitude to his captain prevented him from blaming the royalty. That man had not suffered poverty and always displayed reverence to that distant kingdom, a belief he adopted quickly to please him.

“You know nothing…”

An instinctive response. She pitied him.

“I know far too much.” She wished she could forget her own days as a street rat, but she would never do so. Bitterness fueled her strength. “We are not so different, you know? You just had more luck. Or maybe not. My struggles and aspirations brought me to others that truly embraced me for who I am. You were found and led through a path that is not your own.”

“My ways are much nobler than yours.”

She returned his words with a quiet snarled whisper, for she felt insulted this time.

“You are the one who knows nothing.”

She saw her stand and walk around a pile of gold, to conceal herself from his sight. He was confused to see her sulk there, because ever since she sunk his ship, she had only displayed fiery rage.

“You murder, plunder and pillage.” He reminded her of those facts, a witness of it. “There is no denying the facts.”

“They are indeed true.” She let out a long sigh, closing her eyes and admitting one thing. “Had things been different, I could have been noble.”

He sat down slowly, his anger fading slightly as he noted the sorrow in her tone. His eyes narrowed in contemplation, for he did not like how he was feeling sympathy for a pirate like her, not after all that happened.

“Hunger and poverty are terrible, but one can still display honour while trapped by them. A noble life is something that is chosen, against all that-“

“Idiot, I literally have noble blood. If I was thrown into poverty, it was because I was born without what you have between your damn legs.”

He blinked, twice. The words she said were hard to process, but even when he shook his head, he was sure he heard them. He peeked a little past his pile of treasure, eyeing disbelievingly what he could see of her figure.

“Excuse me, what?” He pointed in her general direction, like if he could see through the hoard of gold that concealed her. “You? A noble? Please, do not jest. A pirate like you can’t possibly-“

He yelped when a big bag of coins was thrown his way, which would have struck his head if he had not dropped behind the pile between them. She now displayed her usual rage, stepping away from her hiding spot to yell at him.

“My father, who I hope is dead and buried by now, was a duke that tried to settle in the Thalassic islands, north from the Polyp bay! Your stupid royals state in their laws that only a son may inherit, so only they can ascend in the political ladder! Somewhere on the mainland, I have an older half-sister, that does not even imagine she has a sibling! He was away from his wife, messed with a local wench, and had me! Now, if I had been born male, he would have sent me back to the kingdom and acknowledged my existence to further his diplomatic ploys… Sadly, I turned out like this! So, he lost all interest and let my mother rot in the streets with me! Who is going to believe a commoner when they say that they bared a daughter for an honourable duke?! After all, the royals are so worthy of being served! Flawless, wise! ¡Llevan muy bien sus putas máscaras!”

She had circled his hiding spot to glare at him, yet he kept moving away while she shouted, to keep his distance. It was only when she stopped screaming and took a deep breath that he was sure she would not wield her sword and skewer him. With one last whisper, she averted her gaze, realizing she had let out too much.

“Que te den, a ti y a tu estúpida ciega rectitud.” She moved away, tired. As she made herself comfortable against a wall, she let out a monotone remark, bitter yet not hateful. “Keep trying to open that door if you want. Let’s see if you get lucky again; I’ll just wait until I can do something.”

He stood there, unable to reply. The hours passed by without a word, and only the echo of the flowing magma below broke the ominous silence.