The night wind whispered through the open balcony doors of the Emerald Palace, carrying with it the scent of night-blooming jasmine and the distant, muffled sounds of the capital city settling into slumber. Inside, bathed in the soft, ethereal glow of moonlight filtering through sheer silk curtains, sat Athanasia De Alger Obelia. Her signature blonde hair, like spun gold, cascaded over her shoulders, catching the light in a halo that belied the weariness in her sapphire eyes. She was no longer the child who had once merely dreamt of survival; she was the Crown Princess, heir to the vast Obelian Empire, a figure of grace and power, yet tonight, she felt utterly, profoundly alone.

The weight of her duties, the endless politicking, the ever-present expectations of a kingdom that adored their "Lady Angel," pressed down on her. Even with the love of her father, Emperor Claude, and the steadfast presence of her friends, there were moments when the solitude of her position was a heavy cloak. She sighed, tracing the intricate patterns on the silk cushion beside her. In the fantastical world of "Who Made Me A Princess," where magic and destiny intertwined, even the most revered figures craved simple human connection.

A soft tap at her chamber door, barely audible over the rustle of leaves outside, startled her. Her guards were usually more formal, but then again, not many dared approach her chambers at this late hour. "Enter," she murmured, her voice a silken thread in the quiet room. The door opened slowly, revealing a tall, imposing figure silhouetted against the dim corridor light. Sir Kaelen, captain of the Imperial Knights, stepped inside, his dark uniform a stark contrast to the pale elegance of her room. His presence always brought a peculiar mixture of comfort and unease to Athanasia, a subtle tremor that ran through her veins.

"Your Royal Highness," Kaelen began, his voice a low rumble, deferential as always, yet with an underlying warmth that was solely for her. He moved with a quiet power that spoke of countless battles and unshakeable loyalty. "I apologize for the intrusion at such an hour, but a matter of security required my personal report." His gaze, usually so unyielding and focused, softened as it met hers. In his eyes, she saw not just a knight, but a man, and for a fleeting moment, the formal boundaries between them seemed to shimmer and dissolve.

Athanasia gestured to a nearby chair, her fingers nervously smoothing the fabric of her silk nightgown. "There's no need for apologies, Sir Kaelen. Please, sit. I confess, sleep eludes me tonight." She watched him move, the subtle flex of muscles beneath his uniform, the way his dark hair fell across his brow. He was a man carved from strength and devotion, a hero from the pages of a classic manhwa, utterly loyal, utterly steadfast. And she, the lonely princess, found herself drawn to that quiet strength more than she cared to admit.

He sat, not too close, but close enough that she could feel the faint warmth radiating from him, smell the subtle scent of leather and steel, mixed with something uniquely Kaelen – a clean, earthy aroma that was surprisingly comforting. He delivered his report with his usual concise efficiency, but his eyes never truly left her. She felt the weight of his gaze, a tangible presence that heated her skin despite the cool night air. It was a look that held admiration, respect, and something deeper, something that mirrored the unspoken longing in her own heart.

When he finished, a heavy silence descended, broken only by the rhythmic tick of an ornate clock. Athanasia finally met his gaze directly. "Thank you, Kaelen. Your diligence is unwavering." She paused, her voice softer now, more vulnerable. "But I sense there's more on your mind than just the palace perimeter."

He tensed, his broad shoulders squaring. "Your Highness is perceptive, as always." He hesitated, his eyes searching hers, as if seeking permission, or perhaps courage. "It is… an audacious thought, one I have fought against for years, but in this quiet moment, with only the stars as witness, I find I cannot hold it back any longer." He rose slowly, moving to stand before her. His shadow enveloped her, a comforting darkness. "My Lady Angel," he whispered, the epithet sounding achingly tender on his lips. "My devotion to you extends beyond duty. It is… a part of my very soul."

Athanasia's breath hitched. She had always known, or at least suspected. The subtle protectiveness, the way his gaze lingered, the almost imperceptible softening of his stern features whenever she was near. But to hear it spoken, even in hushed tones, was a revelation that sent a thrilling jolt through her. Her cheeks flushed, a deep rose that contrasted beautifully with her pale, aristocratic skin. Her blonde hair seemed to shimmer even brighter with the sudden rush of emotion.

He knelt before her, a gesture of profound respect, but also one of desperate supplication. His hand, strong and calloused, reached out, hesitantly, to cup her cheek. His touch was feather-light, yet it ignited a fire that had long smoldered beneath her composed exterior. "I have loved you, Athanasia, since you were a little princess, so brave and kind. I have watched you grow, become the magnificent woman you are today, and my heart has been irrevocably yours."

Tears pricked at her eyes, tears not of sadness, but of overwhelming emotion. She placed her hand over his, her delicate fingers a stark contrast to his rugged warmth. "Kaelen," she breathed, his name a prayer, a confession. "I… I feel it too. This unspoken bond, this… desire that defies all propriety." The words were out, shattering the carefully constructed walls around her heart. The sheer audacity of her confession, as the Crown Princess of Obelia, to one of her knights, was exhilarating.

He leaned closer, his eyes dark with a longing that mirrored her own. "May I, Your Highness? May I dare to hope for more?" His gaze dropped to her lips, full and trembling, then back to her eyes, seeking explicit permission. The air between them crackled with an electric tension, thick and palpable.

Athanasia didn't speak. Instead, she leaned in, closing the small distance between them, and pressed her lips against his. It was a tentative, almost shy kiss at first, a soft meeting of mouths that quickly deepened. Kaelen responded with an immediate, fervent intensity, his lips molding to hers, tasting of his unspoken devotion, his restrained passion finally unleashed. His hand moved from her cheek to cup the back of her head, gently pulling her closer, deepening the kiss into a hungry, breathless exploration.

Her fingers tangled in his dark hair, pulling him closer still, reveling in the unexpected thrill of his touch. This was not the polite, formal affection she was accustomed to; this was raw, untamed desire, a passion that felt as ancient and potent as the magic that coursed through her own veins. His kiss was possessive, demanding, yet exquisitely tender, a perfect blend that left her dizzy and craving more. He tasted of the night, of strength, and of a love she had unknowingly yearned for her entire life.

Kaelen’s other hand slid down her back, finding the curve of her waist, then dipping lower, resting lightly on her hip. The silk of her nightgown was a flimsy barrier, offering little resistance to the warmth of his palm. A soft moan escaped Athanasia's throat, swallowed by his kiss, as a delicious shiver ran through her. Every nerve ending seemed to awaken, tingling with an exquisite awareness she had never experienced before. This was a new side of her, Athanasia De Alger Obelia, the woman, not just the princess. This was Athy, shedding her regal facade for something far more primal.

He broke the kiss, reluctantly, his forehead resting against hers, both of them breathing heavily. "Athanasia," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion, "You are breathtaking. More beautiful than any angel." The compliment, delivered with such raw sincerity, made her heart pound against her ribs. She gazed into his eyes, seeing a reflection of her own burgeoning desire.

He lifted her into his arms with surprising ease, carrying her towards her large, opulent bed. The world seemed to spin, but not from dizziness; it was from the sheer exhilaration of finally succumbing to this forbidden, overwhelming passion. He laid her gently on the silken sheets, his gaze never leaving hers, as if he were memorizing every curve, every flush of her skin. The moonlight now streamed directly onto the bed, illuminating them in a silver glow, turning her blonde hair into a celestial halo.

Kaelen moved over her, supporting himself on his elbows, his broad chest hovering inches above her own. His eyes, usually so serious, were now molten with desire. He reached out, his fingers tracing the delicate lace trim of her silk nightgown, a garment that now felt utterly superfluous. "May I?" he asked again, his voice barely a whisper, a silent question that spoke of respect even amidst the raging inferno of his lust.

Athanasia nodded, her throat tight with anticipation, her breath catching in her chest. "Yes, Kaelen. Everything." She reached up, her hands going to the buttons of his tunic, fumbling slightly in her eagerness. He chuckled softly, a deep, resonant sound, and gently took over, unfastening his uniform with practiced ease. The heavy fabric fell away, revealing a muscular chest, toned and powerful, covered in a light dusting of dark hair that tapered down towards his belt. He was magnificent, a warrior king in her bedchamber.

He shed his tunic, then his undershirt, his body now bare to her gaze. Athanasia gasped softly, her eyes widening as she took in the sculpted perfection of his form. His broad shoulders, his strong arms, the taut planes of his abdomen – it was a sight that stirred a primal hunger deep within her. The kind of hero often depicted in a grand manhwa, but brought to vibrant, breathing life before her very eyes. She reached out, her fingers tentatively exploring the warm, smooth skin of his chest, feeling the tautness of his muscles beneath her touch.

Kaelen groaned, a low, guttural sound, as her touch ignited new fires within him. He leaned down, capturing her lips once more, this kiss deeper, more urgent than before. His hand, warm and firm, slid beneath her nightgown, tracing the curve of her waist, then the gentle swell of her hip, before moving to her inner thigh. The silk whispered against her skin as he slowly, sensually, eased the nightgown up, higher and higher, until her legs were exposed to the cool night air, and his hand was nearing the most intimate part of her.

He paused, his fingers brushing against the delicate lace of her panties. Athanasia shivered, a delicious tremor that started deep in her core and spread outwards. The flimsy silk and lace felt like an impossible barrier, a tease against the rising tide of sensation. Her breath hitched as his thumb gently stroked the fabric, pressing lightly against the sensitive mound beneath. A wave of heat rushed through her, pooling between her legs, making her acutely aware of her own burgeoning wetness.

"Beautiful," he murmured against her lips, his voice thick with desire. He moved his hand, his fingers teasing the elastic waistband of her panties, slowly, deliberately hooking them and beginning to draw them down. Athanasia arched her back slightly, lifting her hips to aid him, a silent plea for more. The delicate fabric slid down her thighs, over her knees, and finally off her feet, landing in a silken pool on the floor beside the bed. She was now utterly vulnerable, completely exposed to his ardent gaze, her pale skin glowing in the moonlight, her blonde hair fanning out around her like a halo.

Kaelen's eyes devoured her, his gaze lingering on her soft curves, the gentle swell of her breasts, the delicate dip of her navel, and finally, the soft, golden blonde patch of hair at the juncture of her thighs, now gleaming with a sheen of arousal. "Athy," he whispered, using the affectionate diminutive, "You are a goddess." He lowered his head, his lips trailing a path of fire from her neck, over her collarbone, to the delicate hollow between her breasts. His tongue flicked out, tasting her skin, sending shivers through her.

His hands, strong and sure, cupped her breasts, his thumbs gently brushing over her engorged nipples. Athanasia gasped, her back arching, her fingers digging into his broad shoulders. The sensation was exquisite, a sweet ache that spread through her entire body. He suckled gently at one nipple, then the other, pulling softly, teasingly, until she was writhing beneath him, lost in a haze of pure sensation.

Then, he moved lower, his head dipping down between her legs. Athanasia gasped, her eyes flying open, as she realized his intent. His warm breath ghosted over her most sensitive flesh, sending an electric current through her. "Kaelen," she whimpered, half a plea, half an invitation. He lifted his head, meeting her gaze, his eyes dark with a promise of unparalleled pleasure. "Let me worship you, my Lady Angel. Let me taste your nectar."

He lowered his head again, and then, his tongue, warm and wet, touched her. Athanasia cried out, a sharp, surprised sound, as an unbelievably intense wave of pleasure washed over her. He licked, he sucked, he swirled his tongue around her engorged clitoris, teasing it with agonizing slowness before devouring it with a hunger that made her hips buck uncontrollably. She buried her face in the pillows, stifling her cries, but the sounds of her pleasure were impossible to contain. Her body was alight, burning with a delicious inferno.

His movements were masterful, an expert orchestration of pressure and release, of gentle caresses and deep, insistent licks. He knew exactly what she needed, anticipating her every shift, her every moan. The world outside her chamber, the entire Obelian Empire, faded away, leaving only the exquisite sensations of his mouth on her, the dizzying spiral of pleasure that was building within her. She was coming undone, unraveling into pure bliss, her elegant composure shattered by the sheer force of his loving attention.

"Oh, Kaelen, please!" she gasped, her body trembling violently, on the verge of total surrender. He responded by increasing the tempo, his tongue working faster, harder, until Athanasia shrieked, her legs wrapping tightly around his head, as a powerful, shattering orgasm ripped through her. Her body convulsed, every muscle clenching, as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over her. She cried his name, a broken, desperate sound, her nails digging into the sheets as she rode the exhilarating crest of her climax, lost in the sweet, beautiful oblivion.

He continued to taste her even after her tremors subsided, gently licking away the proof of her pleasure, until she was breathing evenly again, albeit with a residual tremble. He slowly rose, his eyes still dark with desire, but also gleaming with satisfaction. He stripped off his breeches and drawers in one fluid motion, revealing his hardened erection, thick and proud, pulsing with a life of its own. Athanasia's eyes widened, taking in his magnificent size, feeling a nervous thrill course through her. He was truly a man built for her pleasure, strong and potent.

He knelt between her legs, gently spreading them, his gaze once again meeting hers, seeking permission. "Are you ready, my love?" he whispered, his voice deep and rough with pent-up desire. Athanasia, still tingling from her orgasm, nodded, her heart pounding with a mixture of apprehension and fervent anticipation. "Yes, Kaelen. Please."

He positioned himself, his tip gently nudging against her slick entrance. The first contact was a jolt, an exhilarating warmth. He pushed slowly, carefully, allowing her body to adjust to his impressive size. Athanasia gasped, a soft, involuntary sound, as he began to fill her, stretching her slowly, exquisitely. It was a sensation of profound fullness, of being utterly, completely possessed by him.

He paused, letting her acclimate, his eyes searching hers for any sign of discomfort. Seeing only passion and invitation, he began to move again, pushing deeper, until with a soft groan, he was fully buried within her. Athanasia arched her back, her fingers gripping the sheets, tears of pure sensation welling in her eyes. It was intense, powerful, and utterly breathtaking. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him even closer, wanting to feel every inch of him, wanting to merge with him completely.

Kaelen began to move, slowly at first, a gentle rhythm that quickly became more insistent, more passionate. He thrust into her, long, deep strokes that made her cry out with every penetration. The bed creaked a soft accompaniment to their increasingly frenzied rhythm. Her blonde hair thrashed against the pillows as she surrendered to the primal dance. He whispered words of love and adoration against her ear, telling her how beautiful she was, how much he desired her, how long he had waited for this moment.

Athanasia responded with her own cries, her body twisting and arching to meet his every thrust. The friction, the fullness, the sheer power of their union was intoxicating. She felt herself building again, another wave of pleasure gathering force, deeper and more profound than the last. He found her sweet spot with every stroke, eliciting gasps and moans from her, driving her closer and closer to the precipice of another climax.

He leaned down, capturing her lips in a deep, desperate kiss, his tongue mirroring the thrusts of his hips. Their bodies moved as one, a symphony of passion and longing. Athanasia dug her nails into his back, urging him faster, harder, wanting to feel the full force of his desire. The world was a blur of sensation, of heat and wetness, of pounding hearts and whispered promises.

With a final, powerful thrust, Kaelen pushed even deeper, hitting a nerve that sent Athanasia spiraling into another violent orgasm. She screamed his name, her body shaking uncontrollably, her climax mirroring his own. He groaned, a deep, primal roar, as he emptied himself deep inside her, his seed hot and abundant, filling her completely. They collapsed against each other, Kaelen’s heavy body pinning her to the bed, their breaths ragged, their skin slick with sweat, their hearts pounding a chaotic rhythm against each other.

They lay tangled together for a long time, the aftershocks of their passion rippling through them. Kaelen stirred first, gently extracting himself, but not before kissing her forehead, her lips, her neck. He pulled the silk sheet over them, tucking her close against his side, his arm a warm, comforting weight around her. Athanasia snuggled into him, her head resting on his chest, listening to the powerful beat of his heart. It felt right, utterly and completely right.

"Athy," he murmured, his voice still hoarse, "My beautiful Athy. I have never known such joy."

She looked up at him, her sapphire eyes shining with love and contentment. "Nor I, Kaelen. You have awakened something in me I didn't even know existed. You are more than a knight; you are my heart's true desire." She traced the lines of his jaw, feeling the stubble beneath her fingertips. This was not just a fleeting encounter; this was the beginning of something profound, a secret love that would burn brightly in the hidden corners of the Obelian Palace.

The dawn would bring with it the return of her duties, the need to resume her role as Crown Princess. But for now, in the quiet intimacy of her chambers, with Kaelen's arm around her and the scent of their shared passion still lingering in the air, Athanasia De Alger Obelia, the "Lady Angel" of the Obelian Empire, felt truly cherished, truly desired, and utterly, wonderfully complete. She closed her eyes, a soft smile gracing her lips, already dreaming of their next stolen moment, her heart forever entwined with the man who had shown her such exquisite pleasure and unwavering love, a love as timeless as any found in the pages of a beloved manhwa.