Imprint of the Moon

Posted on 2025, Thu Sep 18th, @ 9:55am by Major Alexander Stroud & Civilian Queen Kaitaama XII

686 words; about a 3 minute read

Mission: Episode 1: Shadows Over Krios - USS Vigilance
Location: Krios Prime – Palace Gardens & Private Quarters
Timeline: Afternoon into evening, following morning reflection
Tags: Krios Prime, Princess Kaitaama, Major Stroud, USS Vigilance, Marine Detachment, Personal Security, Slow-Burn Romance, Mutual Attraction, Full Imprinting, Afternoon Check-Up, Evening Tension, Intimate Proximity, Subtle Desire, Professionalism, 2402

The afternoon sun had warmed the palace gardens, soft shadows stretching across the manicured paths. Princess Kaitaama moved deliberately, her mind restless. She had spent the morning walking with Major Stroud, feeling the magnetic pull of his presence, the quiet strength in his stance, and the disciplined gaze that somehow made her heart race.

By mid-afternoon, she noticed subtle changes within herself — a deepening focus on him, an awareness she could not dismiss. The princess’s own medical staff, having observed her closely over the past days, confirmed what she had begun to suspect: the imprinting had fully begun. They offered advice, guidance, and gentle warnings, noting that her physiological and emotional responses were now strongly tied to Stroud.

Kaitaama listened, absorbing the medical assessments, but her thoughts drifted immediately to him. She felt an urgency, a desire to be near him, to sense him close — not as duty required, but as something instinctual and unavoidable. Even the gentle reminders from her staff could not suppress the rapid pulse in her chest or the way her mind lingered on him whenever he was near.

Later, as the sun dipped toward the horizon, she requested a private briefing in her quarters — a pretense for professional discussion, yet an opportunity to be near him without witnesses. Stroud arrived promptly, maintaining his usual discipline, though she sensed a subtle shift in his awareness — a tension that mirrored her own.

“Kaitaama, the perimeter reports remain clear,” he stated formally, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of unspoken thought, a recognition of the deepening connection.

“Yes,” she said, her voice softer now, more intimate, almost vulnerable. “And… I’ve had my staff confirm… that the… imprinting is complete.” She paused, letting the words linger in the quiet room. “It seems I… respond to you, Major. More than I ever anticipated.”

Stroud’s expression remained professional, but his jaw tightened slightly, and the faintest hitch of breath betrayed him. “I am aware,” he said softly. “And I will continue to maintain discipline.”

Kaitaama stepped closer, letting her presence fill the space between them. The air felt charged, the pull undeniable, yet tempered by restraint. She could feel the depth of the imprinting — the physiological and emotional tether to him — and she allowed herself a small, daring test. A gentle brush of her hand against his arm, a glance that lingered a heartbeat too long, a soft murmur near his ear.

Stroud stiffened, though he did not pull away. Every fiber of his being struggled to maintain the professional facade, but inside, he acknowledged the truth: the connection was mutual, powerful, and consuming.

As the evening shadows fell, Kaitaama requested he remain while she conducted a private medical check-up, under the guise of routine protocol. Her staff confirmed what she already knew: the imprinting had fully activated, intensifying her emotional and physiological response. The results were recorded meticulously, yet she allowed herself a small, mischievous thought — one that involved his continued presence, the heat of the room, and the inevitability of desire.

That night, after the formalities of the day had concluded, the two remained in the palace quarters. Kaitaama moved with subtle intent, guided by instinct and imprinting, drawing him near without violating any explicit boundaries. Their proximity was intimate, magnetic, the tension thick enough to taste. She brushed against him, whispered words that made his pulse quicken, and allowed the mutual attraction to simmer.

And then the evening faded into quiet, unspoken acknowledgment — a night that promised more, hinted at passion, yet remained deliberately undefined. What passed between them was intimate in feeling, but not described; a shared acknowledgment of desire, a tacit promise that the connection was now fully real, binding, and inescapable.

By the next morning, the air between them had shifted — no words were necessary. Both understood the pull, the imprint, and the undeniable magnetism that had taken root. And though the details of the night remained private, the subtle changes in their interactions were evident to anyone who observed closely: touches lingered longer, glances were more loaded, and every shared space carried the weight of unspoken longing

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