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."
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