Bewitched
It was a long sail back from the Lazaret.
And for good reason, Alexandra mused, dipping the oars into the surf as they started rowing back to the mainland. Learning that one was a… a victim of the worst disaster to hit Vesuvia in recent memory—that she’d died… It was a lot to take in.
The creak of the ship and the crash of waves against the hull masked the sound of boot heels drumming a staccato rhythm against the hull, so that when Lucio spoke, it was almost sudden, a surprise Alexandra wasn’t qure she was ready for. “I…” He paused, seemingly choosing his words with immense care. “I think I owe you an apology.”
She side-eyed him, her lips pressed into a thin line. “After all of that, I think I owe you the apology,” she groused.
He sputtered for a moment, surprised. “You must know,” he reasoned. “Surely—you have to know that all of this—” He released one of the oars and threw his arm wide, mid-afternoon sun reflecting off both the waves and the curved edges and sharp points of his prosthetic—"isn’t just for me. Normally I might not have cared, but you…"
His arms dropped, hand curling loosely around the wood. “‘Lexie—Alexandra, you’re far too good to trifle with me. After everything you’ve done for me—” Both of them thought, a little unwillingly, about the sight of the chains wrapped around Lucio like so many venomous snakes, about the stale, foreboding air of the Lazaret. Lucio started to pace the deck in tight circles, gesturing a in a way that would have been theatrical had it not been so sincere. “I feel hope for the first time in years.”
“Lucio, is there a point to all this?” she said, almost wearily.
“There is!” He released both of the oars now to rest his hands on her shoulders, looking her over with something akin to reverence. “I would have to tell you—you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love… I love…”
He paused, expression almost pained for a moment before his gaze fell; when he lifted it again, he swallowed hard, his eyes, the color of silver and unmarked by the plague that had almost claimed him (and successfully claimed her), shiny. “I love you.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it when he silenced her with a shake of his head. “If you don’t feel the same way, tell me—right now. My… affections haven’t changed but one word from you will silence me forever, but…”
He lifted a hand and laid it on her cheek, the touch unfathomably tender—even the normally talonlike ends of the prosthetic’s fingers felt a little less pointed. “I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.”
Now it was Alexandra’s turn to swallow hard, trying to come up with a response. All she got out was—"Come here—" before releasing the oars to catch his chin between two fingers and press a heady kiss to his mouth.
He thought he was the only one who was bewitched in this scenario?