Recalling their last encounter, Francesca drops in on Michael unannounced in the Solarium.
Posted: Wed Oct 22, 2025 6:02 am
talking★thinking
For a school founded with the intention of maintaining peace it was doing a bang-up job keeping that promise. Having to endure it with her half-sister and her banshee-style singing in the midst of it was just the chef’s kiss too. But Francesca made it through the invasion better than most with only some wear and tear and a fresh layer of memories reminiscent of the invasion of Arioso. Even if it was the school’s job to protect them, she supposed she should have been grateful it wasn’t worse for her or some of the people she came to know.
It was in thinking about the invasion that brought the man with the interesting eyes to mind. She didn’t remember seeing him then, and she hadn’t seen him since. Michael Sera Leclair. When she first heard his name it rang a bell. Why? Heck if she knew. Fran could only guess his name was probably listed in some gossip pamphlet that ranked the world’s Princes by level of attraction she poorly read one time. Which, in her opinion, was a completely plausible possibility.
(All she could remember was that a Prince named Stephanie topped the list for that issue.)
The first time they met was… well, Fran knew she could have been more graceful on her part. It didn’t help matters that the poor man been struck by her pheromones just beforehand, another fault of hers and her clumsy carelessness. Their parting after the garden walk was on a good note, much to her relief. What she said about dropping in on him unannounced had been just as much a promise now and as it was then and that was how her one-person manhunt began.
Mike sure didn’t make finding him easy. Fran hugged her jacket around her middle as she passed through the colder parts of the halls. It was a depth of cold at Utopia that her home didn’t drop to often, but nothing a bit of layering couldn’t fix. There was no luck in the dining area or the library. Just as she thought she was done peeking around in the portrait gallery, brown eyes snagged themselves on the sight of the Aloran Prince as she started past a row of windows. Of course, he was on the other side of the glass in what looked like a rather swanky green house. Fran recalled the bandages. Oh, she didn’t know what he got into at the time but she could hope his face caught a break during their music class.
Fran slipped into the Solarium and took a moment to take in the place. Right away she could see why someone would want to spend time there. It had the warmth and light of the sunshine but kept the winter elements behind the walls and ceilings of glass. Not to mention the floral smell. Her jacket came off to reveal a simple white sweater over a floor length skirt. “You really know how to pick nice places to hide from me, Michael Sera Leclair.” She laughed a little, knowing he didn’t know she’d been looking at him. Fran approached until she was within a respectable amount of space.
“Hey hun. Came to collect on that bill.” Fran quickly followed her joke with a shake of her head. Mike wouldn’t have been able to pay for it, she decided back then, because he already did with the smile he made that same day. Her nose crinkled over a small grin. “Told you I’d come looking for you again. Now that I did… I hope you've been well since we last talked.”
Winter's chill had firmly settled in. The days were shorter and the Mother's blessing seemed too fleeting as each day seemed to blend into each other since the attack. There were so many people that Michael had wanted to check on, to make sure they were okay. But there had been the matter of reporting the incident to his father, explaining everything he had seen about the attack, and trying to navigate the minefield that was trying not to have another war break out. Alore didn't have the resources for another war.
For once his trouble sleeping had nothing to do with the nullification bracelets he usually wore breaking.
So he had sought out comfort. The only kind he truly knew. Well, to an extent. There were no orchards on the academy grounds. A handful of fruit trees for a range of seasons, yes, but no true orchard. Besides, with it being winter none if the trees would bear any leaves and he would prefer not to freeze his bollocks off trying to enjoy a handful of extremely large sticks. Which was where the solarium came in. Mike had seen the glass building a handful of times before on his runs, but had never gotten the chance to actually explore it.
Until today. Now he found himself roaming the pleasant little building, his jacket off and draped over an arm in the pleasant heat. They had been thoughtful enough to include metal outdoor furniture nestled into the manicured gardens of the building. Rightfully so, as it would be an absolutely delightful place to take tea. He could almost picture a romantic outing among the rosebushes.
Gentle hands came up to a rose to pinch a petal, the pad of his thumb running over the velvet surface as if it would soothe his frayed nerves. Then a voice behind him made him nearly jump out of his skin. Almost literally. Unfortunately it made him jolt, pulling the petal from the rose and jamming his arm into the plant. A thorn caught his shirtsleeve, then also his arm to tear both the fabric and his skin. Then he was attempting to stumble back and turn at the same time, only to drop his jacket, catch Fran in the frenzy against his chest, and only fully regain their balance by trapping her against one of those delightful little tables he had just been fantasizing about.
The table was decidedly less delightful and far more erotic as he attempted to slow his breathing while also staring into Fran's eyes in alarm. How he had dreamed of those eyes. Their warmth seemed to dominate him. Though he couldn't say he had dreamed of fumbling so badly the next time they met that he was pressing chest to chest with her, one arm - fortunately not the bleeding one - wrapped around her waist to steady her as he pressed her against a table his other hand was bracing against.
Yet he couldn't seem to convince his feet to work to do the right thing and step away. So instead he opened his mouth. "By the Mother, I would never hide from you." s**t. Maybe opening his mouth had been a stupider idea. He needed to fix this. Fast. "I am so glad to see you well. I was worried about you." There. That was a start.
If she intended to scare him, it was only just a little and not in the way that had him so discombobulated and left them in such an intimate position against the iron table. It was in the frenzy that Francesca found herself reaching out for something to hold on to. That something, once everything came to a standstill, was Michael. She was pressed up to him, clinging to him with her arms looped around his neck. With as loud as the sound of her heartbeat was, there was no way he couldn’t feel the charged thrumming against her chest. Their near tumble may have started it, but being pinned against him, in his gentle hold no less, kept the throb from ebbing out completely.
Her eyes fixated back on his. Eyes that were a gift from Mother Sun and so full of feeling each time her own eyes met them, she remembered. This time was no different, even though they had the look of a man on edge. Reaching up to lay comforting kisses on his cheek came to mind, but in place of her lips Fran curved her hand against it instead. Remnants of the musing lingered as a warmth in her cheeks. Whether he would accept them or withdraw she did not know. They were already well within one another’s space, yet Michael was not trying to leave. Her lips formed a smile at the thought. Maybe his gentlemanly instincts would kick in. She didn't walk into the Solarium expecting anything like this, but she didn't want to end as quickly as it happened.
She’d meant for her quip about his hiding as a joke, but his serious reply was heard as he intended it. “I’ll hold you to that, Sir Mike, but…” Her smile widened with a hint of amusement. “What if I wanted to play hide and seek?”
The quiet warmth in his honest confession stopped her from giving him the more teasing bit that first came to mind. Something about being a big girl that knew how to tie her shoes and everything. That still rang true for a lot of things but in the case of what happened during Lady Varsha’s music class, a line like that felt farther from the truth. It was the first time she truly handled a sword and only by the skin of her teeth did she walk out of that room unscathed. But he'd been worried about her. That had her drawing in a deeper breath. “The Goddesses were looking out for us that day.”
Fran’s voice dropped to above a whisper. ”I was worried about you too, and I wanted to see for myself that you were okay.” The arm at his neck became a touch tighter and she stroked her thumb along his cheekbone. By all appearances so far, Michael was unharmed. As a matter of fact, he looked better than when they first met. She let out a small laugh. “Your bandages are gone, which is a plus for me because now I can see all of your face at the same time.”
“Does it still hurt? Your nose, I mean.” As if she wanted to cause him anymore pain by touching it while it was still tender. Her eyes tore away from his to look him over. Well, the parts of him she could see without disrupting their current pose. The ripped fabric of his shirt and peek of red caught her attention and Francesca moved her hand to the outside of his arm, careful not to touch the cut. It was fresh and she imagined it hurt a little. She didn’t remember seeing it when she first saw him. “What happened here?”
The press of her palm into his cheek had Michael closing his eyes, pressing into that hand like a man starved. The breath he let out was harsh and stilted, like the stress that had built up in his body over the last few weeks was finally forcing its way out. Her next question had him smiling, trying not to give in to the rather indecent thoughts it was stirring. He let out another breath, this one more even, before cupping his hand over hers to grasp it to hold it in place. Then he was turning his head to press his lips to the center of her palm before opening his eyes to find those warm brown ones he was beginning to crave.
"I would have you know I am rather inclined to give the lady what she wants."
He hadn't moved her hand. In fact, he was still holding it against his lips despite putting space between them. He was attempting to help her right herself, with arm around her waist slipping free in a way that was a little too familiar to be proper before letting his hand come to rest on her elbow. There was still virtually no space between them at Michael adjusted them so that they were no longer pressed up against the table like a salacious pair of lovers in the midst of a tryst. He didn't attempt to put space between them either, staying pressed closer than he knew he should have. The most he did was let the hand at his lips move back to his cheek without letting go.
At her mention of the goddesses looking out for them both, his eyes softened. Any heat in them seemed to melt away into relief as his thumb skated over Fran's knuckles. Underneath his hand, her thumb stroked his cheekbone in a way that stirred a mix of feelings in him. "And for that I am glad. More than I have the words to express." The idea that she had been worried about him was flattering. Almost as much as knowing she'd been thinking about him at all. Those were the easiest emotions for Mike to parse. He could feel his face heating, the warmth intense as it crept up through his ears.
Thankfully she changed the subject. Less thankfully, it was not helping with the predicament that he was looking less and less put together with the mention of his nose and arm. "All healed up, actually. You'd never know it was broken." Then his gaze trailed down, looking at the tear in his sleeve bashfully. The action forced him to finally uncover the hand resting on his cheek. "I'm honestly not entirely sure, but I would bet you it happened during my rather, uh, ungraceful tumble. It wouldn't be the first time."
The realization made him feel like a complete and total idiot. She was looking at him for injuries and he was looking at her like she was a servant of the Mother who hung her in the sky. Of course he should be making sure Fran was alright. "Mother, I feel like a bit of an a**. I was so enamored by you it completely slipped my mind to truly check on you." The hand that was now free caught her chin, gently guiding her gaze back to his.
"Are you okay Fran?" His hand curled, the backs of his fingers tracing the line of her jaw gently. "More than just physically. A battle like that takes more mentally than most realize. I can listen if you need an ear. I know I wish I'd had someone to talk to after my first skirmish."
Francesca felt plenty warm in the Solarium but feeling his hand along the back of her own, and how he kissed the inside of it, left a wishing look in her eyes. If her hand could feel so cared for by his, what would the rest of her feel like to be kept by the rest of Michael in the same way? She’d found herself adrift with thoughts like that before, of being close enough to guilelessly trace her fingers over him while humming something made up. His answer left her giggling, and she put his agreement to her suggestive game away for a future date. “I will hold you to that then, Mister LeClair. What fun it will be to be found by you.”
How his hand slipped off her waist left the next inhale of air feeling rather crisp in her chest. She moved as he did, straightening up to stand more comfortably on her feet. Michael remained noticeably close, and she continued to sense the contrasts in how he handled her now. On the line of looking improper, but with an unspoken confidence and not more daring than that. She’d ask herself why the difference but Fran had a very good idea that it laid just under her skin, literally. Not to mention they were already acquainted. She herself was enchanted by him and so at ease she had not worried once about exposing him to her capabilities for a second time.
It felt important to mention that eventually. Usually, she didn’t. Then again, the men who once fell under her spell were not the man before her. Instead, she found herself under a spell cast by him instead.
She made a smile at his mention of being all healed up and found her fingers itching with the want to touch more of his face, nose included. Fran didn’t know what a broken bone felt like, but knew from breaking other people’s noses that they were especially tender after. She liked her touches to be a lot of things, but she didn’t want them to be painful for those she adored. With her other hand she traced the backs of her fingertips along Michael’s forehead and down past his temple, pushing his bangs aside in the process.
Michael’s calling himself an a** halted whatever she’d planned to say about his arm. The rest of what he said obliterated it entirely, and Francesca was unresisting to how he pulled her back into his eyes. Her cheeks tingled and felt warm with how he looked down at her, and she took a deeper breath to catch what she’d lost. She laughed a little, “Sir you are sweet to check on me, and too kind a man to ever be considered an a**. The only thing I’m in danger of is being filled with more of your sweet words, it seems. If I develop a habit for them, what will you do then?”
His next question was more serious, and the more he spoke, the more of an a** she felt like in his place. She had come in to check in on him for the same reason. Francesca’s lips parted as she tried to make words, but she didn’t know where to begin. Her eyes closed and she drew in another breath. The way his hand felt on her jaw was so gentle and she tilted her face down to chase the soothing sensation further. After another beat she opened her eyes and smiled achily at him. “I’m better… but no, not really?” What a contradictory statement, she told herself. The arm in his hand dropped into the bend at his elbow, the hand at his cheek to his shoulder. “At least not with what just happened. My… city was invaded during the war so it wasn’t my first time. This one felt worse.” Fran pushed her teeth together, remembering how Instructor Yezikhulumi made her relive that day a second time. She was still mad about that.
The back of her eyes started to burn and Fran let her face fall to his chest for cover. Just her forehead touched in case she did start tearing up, that way her makeup wouldn’t stain his nice looking cravat and vest. If it did, well, she could wash it out good as new. “They tried to abduct my brother and…” A deep breath in, then out. Her voice broke with the last couple of words. “I’ve never been attacked by a soldier or used a sword and I stopped him but I also had to… you know…”
The soft trail of her fingers across his forehead, down his temple, only to trace the side of his cheek made him want to close his eyes. Close them and lean into her touch like a wanting fool. They only stayed open out of the sheer desire to watch her face. To see how her expression changed as she touched him. To watch with fascination as whatever thrall he was under seemed to consume her too.
Was this how someone who cared was meant to touch him? So tenderly it made him ache from sheer want? Michael wanted to bask in it like she was the light from the sun and he was the grass. How lucky to be allowed in her presence like this. Even luckier that she had sought him out like he was wanted.
The hand still on her elbow shifted, his thumb tracing circles on the fabric covering her inner arm. "I'm not a poet by any means, but if you asked I would try." His instincts want him to move in, to nuzzle into the hairs at her temple and speak low directly into her ear. His instincts were a rake that could not be trusted. Fighting them, he stayed at the already too close distance without moving in even more. "It would only be fair to feed the addiction I created."
The look on her face spoke volumes, making his stomach sink. He'd been worried about that. Unfortunately, it didn't stop it all from being so out of his depth that he hadn't sought her out properly in the first place. Guilt and shame over his inaction hung in his stomach. This was the woman he wanted to the point of madness and he'd still been too weak to do anything to protect her.
The way she leaned down into his hand had him unfurling his palm to cup her cheep properly. ******** propriety. If Fran needed more from him for comfort he would give it freely. He'd seen more than his share of horrors in the handful of years he'd served in the war. To have her before him suffering and not do anything? It would be the highest form of cruelty.
Watching her forehead press into his chest was difficult, but hearing Fran's voice crack was Michael's undoing. The hand that had been at her cheek shifted into her hair, carding his hand through as his other shifted away from her arm and back around her waist. Pulling her into what he could only hope was a comforting hug, Mike rested his cheek against her head. "It doesn't get easier. I wish I had something more comforting to say on the subject. Or that I could take it from you and carry it for you." The hand on her back began to smooth down her back in a soothing line. "For what it's worth, you did what you must to protect yourself and your brother and, well, if I may be selfish, you are worth protecting. Ideally should it happen again, I'll be there for you. If you would let me."
The soft, circular strokes from his thumb did not go unnoticed and Francesca glanced down for a moment to watch. It felt easy being with Michael. She felt free to exist, and he asked for nothing more than that, levied no other expectations or requirements upon her to do it. A soft laugh slipped out at his offer and she shook her head. “I have to disagree. You are very much a poet, and a good one at that.”
“You’d never be rid of me, but I suspect that’s your intention, is it not?” Her fingertips traveled down to his jawline and she traced it down, dropping her hand away just before she reached his chin. There was no pulling her gaze away from his, not when he was holding hers so deliberately, or while he continued to do the very thing he spoke of.
Her cheek brushed into his palm the moment he opened it up to her, basking in how attentive and secure he felt to be near in his entirety. The war and all she witnessed in its wake were harder to talk about. Fran had not been the nicest to Michael when they first met, but there he was, asking, listening, and offering her comfort. He was like the eye of a hurricane, and she did not feel so gripped by the fear and anger that usually accompanied the topic. But then she felt herself being pulled further into him. A breath caught in her throat from the suddenness of it all, and as she melted into his embrace she shakily let it out.
The fact that Michael was as worried about her and cared to find out left her feeling light, but she couldn’t help but wonder when she’d wake up. Like she needed to brace for disappointment that she’d been having the most foolish dream about a man so out of her league comforting her. Fran turned her head so that it was her cheek to his chest, then after a moment whispered back to him. “This is more than enough. Having you here means the world to me, Michael. It’s perfect.”
She’d never dare ask him to carry the things that weighed on her, even if he had nothing he was carrying himself. It would be too cruel and unfair. He’d mentioned having a ‘first skirmish,’ and spoke of war with calm insight. Had what happened in music class after a year of peace shaken him in any way under the surface? “How are you holding up? If I can ask…”
Fran broke her head away from his cheek and tilted it up to look at him, only to quickly wipe away the tears and embarrassing smudges and streaks of makeup before he had a second more to see it. He didn’t need to see that. It almost made her forget why she was looking up at him again. Almost. As if she could have unheard what he said last.
“I’ll be here for you. If you would let me.”
She searched his face for something that would tell her she was reading too deep into what he asked. That she was wrong and that he had not actually alluded to her that he wanted more. It wasn’t the first time it came up, but this time he wasn’t under her influence. That thought left her feeling more uneasy. If she were wrong and he had to break it to her gently or worse, she wasn’t and he didn’t like what he found beneath the surface… she didn’t want to think about that.
Francesca pressed her lips into a line and made a mental note of where the exit was just in case of an emergency. The emergency being she made things hella awkward.
“I hope that day will never come. The thought of anything happening to you is hard to imagine.” She moved her hands to his arms and brushed her thumbs against the fabric of his shirt. “But on all the other days I would let you. If you would have me.”
The soft, circular strokes from his thumb did not go unnoticed and Francesca glanced down for a moment to watch. It felt easy being with Michael. She felt free to exist, and he asked for nothing more than that, levied no other expectations or requirements upon her to do it. A soft laugh slipped out at his offer and she shook her head. “I have to disagree. You are very much a poet, and a good one at that.”
“You’d never be rid of me, but I suspect that’s your intention, is it not?” Her fingertips traveled down to his jawline and she traced it down, dropping her hand away just before she reached his chin. There was no pulling her gaze away from his, not when he was holding hers so deliberately, or while he continued to do the very thing he spoke of.
Her cheek brushed into his palm the moment he opened it up to her, basking in how attentive and secure he felt to be near in his entirety. The war and all she witnessed in its wake were harder to talk about. Fran had not been the nicest to Michael when they first met, but there he was, asking, listening, and offering her comfort. He was like the eye of a hurricane, and she did not feel so gripped by the fear and anger that usually accompanied the topic. But then she felt herself being pulled further into him. A breath caught in her throat from the suddenness of it all, and as she melted into his embrace she shakily let it out.
The fact that Michael was as worried about her and cared to find out left her feeling light, but she couldn’t help but wonder when she’d wake up. Like she needed to brace for disappointment that she’d been having the most foolish dream about a man so out of her league comforting her. Fran turned her head so that it was her cheek to his chest, then after a moment whispered back to him. “This is more than enough. Having you here means the world to me, Michael. It’s perfect.”
She’d never dare ask him to carry the things that weighed on her, even if he had nothing he was carrying himself. It would be too cruel and unfair. He’d mentioned having a ‘first skirmish,’ and spoke of war with calm insight. Had what happened in music class after a year of peace shaken him in any way under the surface? “How are you holding up? If I can ask…”
Fran broke her head away from his cheek and tilted it up to look at him, only to quickly wipe away the tears and embarrassing smudges and streaks of makeup before he had a second more to see it. He didn’t need to see that. It almost made her forget why she was looking up at him again. Almost. As if she could have unheard what he said last.
“I’ll be here for you. If you would let me.”
She searched his face for something that would tell her she was reading too deep into what he asked. That she was wrong and that he had not actually alluded to her that he wanted more. It wasn’t the first time it came up, but this time he wasn’t under her influence. That thought left her feeling more uneasy. If she were wrong and he had to break it to her gently or worse, she wasn’t and he didn’t like what he found beneath the surface… she didn’t want to think about that.
Francesca pressed her lips into a line and made a mental note of where the exit was just in case of an emergency. The emergency being she made things hella awkward.
“I hope that day will never come. The thought of anything happening to you is hard to imagine.” She moved her hands to his arms and brushed her thumbs against the fabric of his shirt. “But on all the other days I would let you. If you would have me.”
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