Chapter Text
𝐎𝐟 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐞𝐚
“Arthur Pearce, born on November 13, 1976, a Scorpio and year of the Dragon from Ha Long Bay, Vietnam—huh, what a coincidence. Descendant of a Romano and German family empire, he owns one of the largest architectural real-estate corporations called the AOD and is an esteemed philanthropist. He can speak about twenty-five different languages, studied in Korea, Russia, and the States, named the wealthiest bachelor of the west coast—“
“—And is the biggest asshole to walk the face of the planet,” Y/N finished with a venomous hiss before throwing a glare at Sam, crinkling her nose to the magazine article, “Jesus, Sam. Can you give it a rest? I’m trying to focus, here.”
Aboard Sully’s rented plane, the group is forty thousand feet in the air crossing over Italy. Y/N inwardly wished that they could have stopped to see Sassi di Matera along the coast, but instead stomached the endless oceanic horizon from a small window panel of a rickety airship that was plagued with turbulence every-so hour. The boys had passed their time researching on just who this Arthur Pearce jackass was, and what the connections were with the black-market. Y/N, however, had only been keeping her hopes up as she sulked in the back of the plane, holding the Lycurgus cup that felt pleasantly warm.
She had been looking at the blue-lit words for a while now, fifty-times over. The lighter ran out of fluid half an hour ago. The connection to the island of Corinth and the Lycurgus cup did not resolve her endless curiosities, wondering just what kind of treasure Lucius had tried to hide from the Romans and what Poseidon and Athena had to do with it. While Athena was scarcely worshiped there, based on her research of flipping through endless texts of Greece poetry and records of Caesar’s trial, there was only one trace of the island of Corinth.
“𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘴. 𝘍𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦. 𝘍𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘭.”
The passage of text was on one of her expedition pamphlets, ironically. Y/N cursed that coincidence when she discovered the clue. To their luck, and with a little help from Victor’s bargaining with an old friend across the English channel for a few weapons, their new lead was solid upon the next steps after arriving to their destination. Y/N was certain that Arthur was already there, surely he had flown in his own private jet rather than this old plane—no offense to Victor.
She couldn’t help but think of Harry, wondering why he would kiss her head so frankly after everything he did—even after saying that he wanted to catch up.
God dammit, he really was an idiot, wasn’t he?
“The lore checks out,” Y/N remembers Nathan saying when he was actually focused on the mission, “Poseidon and Athena had a big thing going on, fighting over who got control over what, who got this and who got that…Corinth was just one of Poseidon’s victories. If Lucius came here to lead us to his treasure, then this is out best bet.”
“I don’t get it,” Sam wondered aloud, “Lucius was Roman but he worshiped Greek gods? That doesn’t make any sense, even if he was an enemy.”
“Well, the Greek gods and the Roman gods are practically the same. Roughly, the cult’s pantheon had mostly renamed these guys. Like how they called Gaia, the Great Mother. My best guess is that they just didn’t want to get in trouble,” Nathan explains with a shrug, “Since they worshipped Dionysus for their rituals, why wouldn’t they worship Poseidon and Athena to protect their treasure?”
A beat of silence passed before Sam nods his head, “Good point.”
Sam had made a bet with some drachma coin he nicked from the museum, sneaky bastard, that the location of the treasure was conveniently within the first temple. Meanwhile, Nathan betted that the treasure was in the last temple, nearly certain that he would keep the coin. It was never in the first temple, he remarked. Cue the hour long bickering that was only silenced when Victor fired a revolver out of the window, claiming he was just ‘testing it’.
Jesus, they truly were a pair of bothersome brothers, weren’t they? Y/N inwardly hoped that they used their focus and enthusiasm on theories and plans, not the bet and fucking Arthur Pearce.
“We’re just trying to layout all the guidelines here, Y/N,” Sam says with a trying smile, “This guy’s apparently not all he seems to be.”
“You have no idea.”
“Which is all the more reason to check this guy and figure out his motives! Who knows? Maybe we’ll be one-step ahead of him. We’ll find something he won’t.”
Y/N made a small, stubborn huff in response, scraping her nail against the cup harder.
“Listen, Y/N, we just want to know who we’re up against. I mean, the guy’s rich and he’s looking for some lost treasure. Isn’t that a little…useless?” Nathan seemed to agree with Sam’s theory, nodding towards Y/N who only turned around in her seat, “And besides, he has some connection with you. Sounded like a bad one.”
“Almost all my past connections are bad, Sam,” Y/N says with a near laugh, “Arthur Pearce is no different.”
Okay, he honestly was but Y/N just wanted some sleep.
“Come on, Y/N,” Sam spoke softer, pressing his elbows to his knees, “You clearly have a bad history with the guy. Some pointers here and there will keep us on our toes. We don’t have a lot to work with so…maybe we can win with what we got?”
There was a lot of things that Y/N kept from the Drake brothers. They were the first ones she had ever met when she went into the treasure-hunting business, and somewhat acted as her mentors with the help of Sullivan, even though she had only started a few years ago. She supposed that those harsher memories had been suppressed so much, they were forgotten entirely. Reducing to a mundane life, which was practically already gone because now Arthur Pearce knows that she’s with them, left her past an unpleasant enigma since she was hellbent on getting it. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to say it—it’s just that she never thought she would ever have to.
Arthur was a bad guy, Y/N would simply say. But with details?
“Y/N?” Nathan approached her now, a hand resting on her shoulder, while the other wiped away the tears she hadn’t noticed that fell.
Y/N straightened her spine like an arrow, gnawing at the bottom of her lip while her mind jumbled her memories into a plethora of words. The story of her life versus the story of someone historical was different somehow. She would know how to talk about their life with ease, but not with hers.
“I don’t…” Y/N looked away with shame, “I don’t know how to say it.”
“Well, just…start with the worst part.” Nathan assures, where he and Sam join Y/N next to her along the seats.
The worst part, huh? Wow, Y/N thought blankly, somehow the worst part was the easiest part to say.
Pushing along the row of bad memories in her life, Y/N picked apart the memories that were either bad or traumatic. Her eyelashes fluttered some, wondering for a second how long she had been spacing out, realizing that, wow, there was a lot. With a few short breaths, nearly inducing some form of post-traumatic-stress, she managed to push the event off of her tongue.
She was stronger than that, she reminded herself, she’s not innocent either.
“He fucking killed my friend,” She whispers, frowning faintly behind her tear-stained palm, taking a few moments before continuing, “We were kids and we had taken some old pocket-watch from him. It was supposed to be a simple lift. In and out, easy. But then he…then he chased us down an alley…holding a gun. We just couldn’t give it to him. We had people who depended on that money,”
“My friend was having a bad asthma attack from running so fast and we were trying to help him. I thought I could negotiate or just talk him out of shooting us if we just gave it back to him. But…” Y/N tenses somewhat as she drops her shoulders into Sam’s chest, “I guess…I guess he got tired of hearing him trying to breathe. So, he just…shot him. He fucking shot my friend dead in some filthy alley.”
“Jesus.” Sam mutters sadly, running a hand across her shoulder before pulling her close, allowing her head to rest on his collar-bone.
But Y/N jerked her head forward in rage.
“He fucking let us keep it! He just left it with us in the end. He said he didn’t even need it. He shot my friend and he just walked away without that stupid fucking pocket-watch and didn’t give a single damn about Luka!” Y/N rakes her fingers through the roots of her hair, “We had to use that money from pawning the watch for his funeral. In the end, it didn’t even matter. A lot of us died that winter anyway.”
Before Nathan or Sam could ask who ‘us’ was, Victor’s flying suddenly enters a sequence of harsh turbulences.
“We’re coming up on Corinth! Buckle up if you don’t want to roll right out of the plane!”
While scrambling to get into and strapping themselves to their seats, they mutter a small prayer.
༻✧༺
Y/N was over the moon when she had received the discount for the hotel room of Corinth.
It turns out that Arthur didn’t sweep out her bank account information, yet. Y/N wanted to celebrate and go out with a bang as she ordered a bottle of white champagne—the good stuff. She wanted to drink until she was sick, for some reason. She had a long day with so many surprises, she fucking deserves to let off steam. She settled herself in her one-bedroom suite while the boys were next door, taking in the moment of peace and quiet that wasn’t disturbed by the continuous poorly-wired engine of a plane. Hopefully, the boys won’t invite any…guests they’ve met from the bar.
Filling a bath with scorching hot water, she soaked in a hot bath until her hands wrinkled, basking in a happy stupor from the fragrant oils and sensation of clean skin. The grime and dried from under her fingernails had been long gone, where Y/N was keen on scrubbing every last bit of filth, paying extra attention to her crown of her head. Though, no matter how many times she rooted through her head, she can still feel Harry’s lips tingle upon her bubbly crown.
Victor would come and check on her in a few minutes, where she had hoped that his connections came through and provided her with a new gun—her pistol was unfortunately jammed during their escape.
Y/N had felt a little better after she had told Nathan and Sam what had happened all those years ago, finding what others called; closure. Could it have been? No, she still felt awful about it. Maybe? There was some weight that was lifted. Y/N shook her head, sending the bubbles in her hair flying as she attempted the block out those doubtful thoughts, lacking the energy to feel guilty just before bed. The boys had given her space, thank god, but somehow, she knows that it won’t end there.
“Y/N? Sunshine?” Victor’s voice called out from outside of her room, “Got your stuff right here!”
Y/N snapped her head towards the door, wiping a hand around her neck with a wavering smile, “Okay, thanks! You can leave on the bed!”
“All right, then! Goodnight!”
“Night!”
Y/N sank back into the tub for a few more minutes before finally stepping out, minimally surprised of the large cloud of steam that breezed in from behind her. Thank god the hotel had a gift shop, much preferring to sleep in a baggy souvenir tee and shorts over a bloody blouse and torn slacks. She had thrown them in the dumpster outside the hotel with the boys who threw out their ruined tuxes. Y/N whined a little, saying goodbye to what would probably be the last time they ever dressed nice.
Running a hand through her wetted hair, Y/N suddenly found herself acting like a deer in headlights as she saw Sam Drake sitting on the bed, holding the bottle of champagne she ordered and two glasses. He didn’t even look fazed as she stepped out of the bathroom, wondering if he would have had a different reaction if she came out with just a towel. In truth, she half-expected to walk out of the shower and be held at gunpoint.
“Evening, darlin’.” Sam greeted, popping the cork of the champagne, a pleasure that Y/N wanted to have experienced for herself.
“Evening,” Y/N greets hesitantly, grabbing the cup before crossing her arms, “I don’t suppose Victor gave you have a bag full of loaded semiautomatic and automatic guns that you’re hiding in your filthy jeans that’s sitting on my clean bed, do you? ”
“Maybe I’m just happy to see you?” Sam asked with a half-hearted smirk, diminishing once he had seen Y/N raising a brow, “Geez, you really aren’t the romantic type, are you? You know, you were never one to flirt.”
Y/N gives a snort, tossing the wet towel from her hair aside, “Romance and flirting are two very different things, Samuel.”
Sam perked his head up in interest, letting Y/N take the bottle from his hands and begin to fill her own glass, “Oh, yeah? What’s the difference?”
There was no difference, was there?
“I’d have to fall in love, Sam.” Y/N raises her glass to his dazed expression before taking a swig.
Huh.
Falling in love at 28? Yeah, he’s still got time. Sam took the half empty bottle of bubbling liquor from Y/N with steadying fingers, filling his glass in silence and had occupied himself with watching the thousands of bubbles along the surface, fizzy and light gold—sunshine. She looked anything but ever since they escaped the museum—since she saw Arthur. He wondered how she got that name, besides the swearing part, that bit spoke for itself. Sam had only met Y/N three years ago, two months after Nathan did, but it felt as if they knew each other since childhood.
Sam’s brows almost threw upward—lord, help her if she knew him back then.
“Has there been any new leads on that other thing you’ve been working on?” Y/N asked, clearly not affixed to the silence, rolling her eyes when Sam gives her a wide look, “That thing that you boys suddenly decided to put off to come here?”
Oh, he had almost forgot about that.
“Ah, well…It wasn’t easy but…our sources narrowed the location down between Santa Fe and Colombia,” Sam explained, a brightening smile creeping on his lips, “It took us a long time, but I’m sure it’s there. I know it is. We’ve been working on this for five years now, and we’re getting closer each day. You still got the letter, right?”
Giving a small nod, Y/N brushed away a lock of hair behind her ear, “Mm, still holed up in my crummy museum. Although, I’m guessing that after this, I’m just gonna have to go steal it back. Thanks a lot, Harry.”
The last part was delivered in a mumble, most likely saying it to herself. She had some resentment, quite a lot, counting the fact that he had apparently betrayed her trust. Harry Flynn was a well-known treasure-hunter in the business, almost as well-known as the brothers Drake themselves. He was from Bishopbriggs, UK—a frequent traveler around the world when he hit his teens armed with a silver tongue. Sam had to assume the two met somewhere, someday—probably back in her hometown.
“He’s a friend,” Y/N suddenly answers his curiosities, his eyes flickering against her movements as she came closer to squeeze his hand, “We’re all friends, in the end, aren’t we? We had a thing once when we were teenagers. Nothing big or too serious—young love. And somehow, we managed to stay friends.”
So that’s what it was. Something felt like it had just extinguished inside his chest—jealousy? Nah, it couldn’t be.
“What’s the matter, Sam?” Y/N she suddenly asked, finishing her glass before taking the entire bottle from his hands, eyes glistening, “Jealous?”
Can it?
Her skin is soft on his calloused palm. Not that she didn’t have any—but the numbers were just significantly less. It doesn’t affect the warmth, however. It must have been some kind of muscle memory between him and someone he had forgotten—maybe it was that girl, Crystal—that caused him to close his hand around hers. Her touch is gentle, almost uncharacteristic, and Sam loves every bit of it. His fingers try to maintain a loose grip, where he was afraid that she would pull away—disinclined—but he finds himself unable to hold her hand altogether. Is the champagne messing with his head? He’s had five shots in a row before and didn’t feel a thing, but suddenly his head was swimming and full of fuzzy color.
Y/N lets out the sweetest laugh he’s ever heard in his life, genuine from the back of her throat to the tip of her tongue that stays clenched between her teeth, not wanting to let out a snort. Sam’s smile nearly reaches his eyes as he holds his gaze, tender and all the more warm. For some strange reason, he felt inadequate, unworthy of holding such benevolence. But the way Y/N relaxed with him and smiled so easily, Sam found that happiness out-valued their undiscovered treasure trove.
Y/N almost lets go—please don’t let go—as she takes down the last of the bottle.
Quite the celebration, she thinks.
“Listen, doll…I, uh…” Sam lowered his head, taking a moment to sniff her aroma of complimentary lavender soaps like its the best thing in the world, his throat clenching tighter, “What do you say that, um…y’know after we find this treasure…or not…we could go visit Venice? We could see St. Mark’s Square, go do a canal ride… We could get lost during the night. Anything you want.”
Sam’s eyes peer into Y/N, Little Miss Swearing-Sunshine, and his brown melt into pools of dilated gold, as of he’s watching every bit of an eclipse that draws nearer and closer, but as stubborn and stupid as he was; he could not look away. He drinks in every curve of rising apples in her cheeks, ripened with a rosy smile that his heart thrums upon seeing. Sam nearly shouts with glee as she lowers her head—she’s fucking nodding.
“Sure,” Her voice is soft like the feathers in the pillows he clutches, “I’d like that.”
༻✧༺
Corinth is sunny during the late afternoon, accompanied by a pleasant breeze. Y/N feels it through the fabric of her fitted black tee, but not through her dark-brown vest, only appreciative of the gun that strapped within the inside. Her boots threaten to weigh her down as she walks through the dirt trail—rimmed with mud from last night’s drizzle—trying to keep up with the boys as they walked from the hotel to the vehicle rentals service, renting a 4x4 that Nathan insisted on getting a winch. Y/N opted for silence while the boys talked of the potential treasures that could be found in the temple ruins, unaware of the stolen glances that Sam had given her as he sat beside her in the backseat.
The temple of Ithmia was their destination on the island, and Y/N nearly squealed as she saw it along the road in the far distance. Sam nearly had to catch Y/N from flying out of her seat when she spotted it, rocketing upwards and circling an arm around her waist as she lurched with the halt. The car pulled into the space farthest from the temple within the lot, providing the least manageable distance for a quick get-away as the group had witnessed multiple large SUV’s took up the majority. Y/N was left indifferent as she saw them—Arthur and his men were already here.
“What the hell do we do now?” Sam inquires with a sour tone, folding his arms, “There’s gotta be at least a hundred guys scouring the temple grounds. No way we can stroll right in and search without getting noticed.”
“Yeah, this looks like a ton of trouble…” Nathan sighed, reaching into his pocket before pulling out a map.
Along the forestry that surrounded the temple, Y/N felt a tinge of disappointment as she watched armed gunmen cross over and through the ancient ruins. They were, unfortunately, everywhere and there was no cover that could be provided between the lot and the entrance—not unless they wanted to get shot, of course. However, Y/N would rather not destroy a thousand year old temple with a barrage of bullets and RPG’s.
As she scanned the nearby area, Y/N had seen an old sign standing by its lonesome at the farthest end of the lot, overlooking the cliffside of the sea, surrounded by a dozen of trees. With a glance over her shoulder, seeing that her presence could go missed for a minute or so, Y/N approached the sign with a keen and curious gaze. Looking back between the endless sun-lit sea and the creaky-old post, her eyes narrowed, trying to get a better look at the words that was inscribed in an old, rusted-brown ink across the chipped wood panels. What came from her pocket next was their clue—her pamphlet—finding that the words were the same, yet seemed vastly different.
Why was it all the way out here? Why wasn’t it by the temple?
Y/N rose a brow as she noticed the trees, where one of its fruits fell in front of her feet.
Impulsively, Y/N popped it in her mouth, crinkling her nose to the oiled and heavily-salted taste.
It was an olive, Y/N finally concluded, her eyes drifting towards the trees along the sea.
Does that mean…?
“These cars are cold, Victor. They’ve been here since this morning.” Sam observed aloud, pressing his palm against the engine on one of the cars, “They must’ve found something.”
For a moment, bitterness and anger filled the air—but was silenced by an indifferent call.
“If they found something, don’t you think they would have left for the bank right now?” Y/N’s voice cuts through the anxious atmosphere, gaining attention from the boys who had seen her approach with her nose stuck in her pamphlet.
“Uh, Y/N, doll,” Sam tried calling out, blinking incredulously as she walked towards the temple, “What are you doing? We cannot go anywhere near that place. Arthur’s men are everywhere and I don’t know about you, but I don’t wanna get shot by stepping one foot into that temple.”
Sam had caught Y/N by the hand, switching almost immediately to clasp his palms around her fingers, pulling her still. She had finally ripped her face away from the pamphlet and pierced her gaze upon him, not of hostility or irritation, but impatience—the same as Sam’s who was expecting even a figment of an answer. Y/N folded her palm against his knuckles, as somewhat of a good-natured and affectionate gesture, before slipping away to point at the cliffside of the sea behind the invaded temple.
“We don’t have to step inside it, Sam. We have to go around it.”
Sam seemed to be reeling his mind with this new information, before Nathan cut between them with Victor.
“Hey, don’t forget about us. Care to share with the rest of the class?” Nathan teases with a hopeful and wavering grin.
Y/N gestures her hand towards the sign and the various trees aligned along the cliffside, “Guys, these are olive trees. These are like trees that Athena had made when she fought for this place against Poseidon! These guys have been looking in the wrong place—they don’t even have this clue, I’ll bet you that Arthur didn’t even read the sign.”
A beat of silence is enough for the Drake brothers and a Sullivan to process the newfound information, eyes exchanging bewildered to ecstatically excited looks before praising her with smiles and upbeat movements. They were glad to revere her not only as a celebrated historian, but as a keen observationalist, thankful that no clue would go flying over their heads—which would happen on many occasions.
“Atta girl!” Victor boasts heartily, moving over to inspect the trees while the brothers follow, “Now, which one is the real deal? Said that Athena’s ‘great spear’ grew one olive tree when she threw it into the sea. There’s a dozen here. This might take a while.”
“Well, as long as we don’t have Arthur and his goons coming down here and start blowing up the place,” Sam earns various hums of agreement, beginning to inspect a nearby tree, “In any case, we should try to find this tree quickly.”
Y/N white-knuckles through leaping down a particularly high edge upon the cliff, coming down to inspect the rocky shoreline that crashes angrily with the rippling sea. Her hands coil tightly onto the stone ledge while she lowers herself beside another olive tree. It’s daintier than the rest with thinner leaves but its roots are thick within the dirt, Y/N nearly trips over them as she runs her hands along the trunk sides, frowning as she doesn’t feel any difference in the wood.
What would make Athena’s olive tree stand out above the rest? Y/N pondered, what is Athena’s significance?
Y/N’s thoughts however, had abruptly came to an end as she tripped over and fell on her shoulder upon a crooked root. Surely, and unfortunately, something had torn through her skin and shirt. She bit down her tongue to prevent letting out such a loud sound that would evoke worry or give away their location, rolling on her back with a strained hiss sliding behind her teeth. Y/N glared at the root that had breached the surface of the sculpted grounds, finding that it curiously stretched longer and farther than anticipated, reaching to even the other two trees upon that ledge.
“Long and thin,” Y/N whispered breathlessly, holding her bleeding shoulder, “Venomous and slithering."
“Do you think Athena’s tree will stand out above the rest? Like…a mark or something?” Nathan prompted loudly, smoothing his palms along the bark of the tree, trying to find any divots.
“Yeah, I’m sure there’s bound to be at least one defining trait!” Sam exclaims with a mischievous glint, “Find the one with a giant spear sticking out of it! Then, you’ll know that’s the right one!”
“Oh, ha ha.” Nathan rolls his eyes to Sam who snorts, “Y/N? I’ve got nothing on these three. Neither Victor or Sam. How’s your search?”
Sam takes alert to the silence, his head peering from behind one of his assigned trees before looking over and seeing no sign of the girl. His brother went ahead first, more adequate to act upon his paranoia, hopping down over the ledge that she had supposedly gone down to. Victor had formed knots in that iron gullet of his, where an equal hardening of his expression took place as he followed Sam down after Nathan over the ledge. Sam would have been the first to bolt, Victor thought smugly, before scolding himself.
“Y/N?” Nathan called with a controlled yet taut voice, coming down with the other two boys to find Y/N crouched in front of the farthest tree on that edge of the cliff—bleeding.
Sam had practically sprinted to check Y/N’s injury. He spun her around by her should with almost everything he had, his throat drying in a tight swell when he had peered at her astonished face and the intricacies of the wound. It had been poked and scraped by wooden splinters, cut thin through her skin with uneven cracks, drooling some trails of red—nothing that was lethal. To save himself from being caught needlessly worried in that seven-second span, Sam cleared his throat and shoved himself aside, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Jesus, you really had us scared there!” Sam huffed, removing his hands from her shoulders, “What happened? Why didn’t you answer?”
Y/N remained nonchalant after snapping from her stunned stupor, pointing lowly at the hole that was hidden under the tree behind her back—explaining why mounds of dirt reached her knees and why her hands were so red and dusty—though she appeared to be unbothered by the filth.
“I had my head stuck in there for a full minute, sorry about that,” Y/N got up, wiping her hands along her jeans before pointing at the sinuous roots near the boys’ feet, “I didn’t know what I was looking for at first, I didn’t have an idea of what kind of specific trait Athena would leave on these trees. But then, I saw these roots that looked like snakes. The wood patterns are old but they kind of look like scales, don’t they?”
“Athena does symbolize snakes, to some degree,” Nathan agreed before narrowing his eyes towards the hole she made, “But why go through the trouble of digging this up if you found the tree we’re looking for?”
“There’s stonework under here!” Sam announced, answering Nathan’s question who stood witness to Y/N’s confident smirk, “Looks like an underground tunnel or something, a thousand year old, dirty and intact…”
Y/N spins on her toes to the tree, happily tracing her fingers along the line of the nearest snake-like root. The boys follow the curving and slithering patten of the tree, their breaths taken by a noticeable round hole that lay imbedded in the middle of the trunk. It was the size of an American quarter—where Y/N had put out her hand towards Sam with a giddy and albeit, mischievous smile.
He blanked out, apparently, “What?”
“You and Sam made a bet on where the treasure would be found,” She drawled before pointing at Sam, “You bet that it would be in the first temple we came across. While Nathan bet that it was in the last one. But it’s neither. Our treasure wasn’t in any temple, so, I win! Pay up.”
Although Sam’s heart thrummed, his defiance to her commands were stronger.
“You didn’t even partake in our bet!” Sam whined as his arms threw upwards furiously, only eliciting yet another wicked smile from Y/N.
“Oh, yeah. I didn’t partake in your bet. I partook in Victor’s bet,” Y/N giggled as Nathan shouted a shocked ‘what the fuck’ at the con-man who laughed heartily, giving her a high-five, “I betted on Sam’s coin that we would find the treasure elsewhere. This is elsewhere. Pay up, buckaroo!”
When Y/N places the drachma in the slot, Sam doesn’t have the heart to overcome his bitterness when the hole deepens to reveal the underground staircase. Neither of the Drake brothers, in fact. They look on with stubbornly crossed arms as Victor goddamn Sullivan and Miss Swearing-Sunshine Y/N skip down the staircase into the unknown.
No honor among thieves, huh?