Will I ever stop writing princes!Klaine? Probably not.

Kurt sat at his dressing table and slipped a worn note out of his sleeve, wincing at the too-loud (at least for his frazzled nerves) crinkle of the paper as he unfolded the message and reread the last few lines.

I am counting the moments until I turn of age and we will be able to meet properly for the first time. I dream of how your voice could sound, how your smile might look, how being in your arms may feel. Are you as anxious as I am? I almost hope not, for both of us feeling this terrible would be a tragedy, even if it meant you do not feel for me as I do for you.

Yours always,
Blaine

"How could he even entertain the idea I don't feel for him?" Kurt said quietly, needing some kind of noise to keep him from losing his mind entirely. "How could he not know that I'm as wrecked as he is?"

A knock on his chamber door broke Kurt from his reverie.

"Your Highness? He's arrived," Emma said, bobbing a quick curtsey. "If you would follow me…."

"Of course," Kurt said, tucking the letter back in his sleeve and following the head housekeeper down to the throne room. It was all he could do to keep his posture straight and regal, nervous as he was for the arrival of his intended.

After all, he hadn't actually seen a picture of the other boy for nearly five years.

Curse this tradition, he thought, biting his lip harshly for a moment before realizing he didn't want Blaine to see him with a giant divot marring his face. How could it possibly hurt for us to see as well as write to each other?

Kurt was big enough to acknowledge that part of his frustration came from the awareness that his last portrait, painted when he was fifteen, was truly horrendous. In the four years since it had been made, he'd grown another half-hand taller, figured out how to style his hair better, and lost the remains of his baby fat - all advantageous chances in his appearance. Perhaps it was vain, but he wished his intended could see him in the most accurate (and most flattering) light possible.

He was also curious as to how puberty affected Blaine. The portrait of fourteen year old Blaine he currently had displayed in his chambers featured an adorable boy with wild black hair and large hazel eyes who seemed too tiny to be real. How had he changed after nearly half a decade? Was he taller? Bearded? Had some terrible sickness befallen him and dimmed the light that radiated from his eyes even via paint?

Not that it mattered much to Kurt. He had fallen in love with Blaine's personality after years of writing to him and sharing secrets, fears, and dreams. Even if he weren't bound by honor to wed Blaine and fulfill the conditions of their betrothal, he would want to marry this smart and sensitive man.

"I'm so excited for you, Prince Kurt," Emma murmured as they neared the door to the throne room. "I caught a glimpse of Prince Blaine as he entered the palace, and well, I think-"

Kurt would never know what Emma thought of his betrothed, as the doors swung open and fanfare blasted before she could finish her sentence. He took a deep breath to settle the flurry in his stomach before gliding across the dais to his large golden throne.

"Are you ready?" King Burt whispered, smiling merrily at Kurt from his own throne to the left. He reached out and squeezed Kurt's hand once, helping Kurt feel more grounded than before.

"Can one ever be ready for something like this?" Kurt responded, casting a wary eye around the crowded room. All of Lima's nobles had come to see their future king meet his husband, of course, but the galleries were also filled with commoners and palace servants who had managed to find enough time to come to the festivities. The resulting mass of people unsettled Kurt more than ever - he didn't want to make a fool out of himself or his intended in front of three-quarters of the kingdom!

"I'd be more concerned if you weren't nervous," Burt said frankly. "When your mother and I were introduced for the first time, I couldn't sleep for a week prior."

This reassuring news was followed by a loud trumpet blare that silenced the room. The herald thumped his staff and called "Prince Blaine of Westerville," the doors on the far end of the room swung open, and Kurt's heart ceased to beat for a moment. All he could do was sit and stare at Blaine.

At Blaine's small but muscular frame.

At his smooth, tan skin.

At his neatly slicked black hair.

At his glowing golden-hazel eyes.

At his full, slightly parted lips.

Kurt almost forgot to stand and greet Blaine once he had crossed the room, but he recovered gracefully enough and moved to meet him at the foot of the dais. As he reached the bottom of the staircase, though, he tripped over nothing and stumbled, making the letter in his sleeve slip out and land with a soft rustle near Blaine's feet.

"No," Kurt said softly, instantly flushing a deep red and lowering his gaze as hushed chatter broke out amongst the spectators. He was sure he would have continued to stare at his shoes for the rest of his life had Blaine's next sentence not instantly called him to attention.

"You too?" Blaine said gently. He smiled as he reached into his own sleeve and pulled out a familiar sheaf of paper, dropping it next to Kurt's as if it were customary.

Kurt reacted on instinct, pulling Blaine into an embrace so tight he felt Blaine's breath puff out harshly near his ear. Though he'd wager Blaine had grown some since his portrait had been painted, Kurt still had maybe half a hand on him, a height difference that allowed Blaine to fit into the crook of his neck perfectly once he got over his shock.

After a long moment spent reveling in the feel of Blaine in his arms (and ignoring the whispers from the galleries), Kurt realized Blaine was whispering something into his neck.

"Beautiful, you're so beautiful," Blaine was saying, sounding close to tears. "I knew you would be, but I never expected-"

"You thought I would be attractive?" Kurt asked, flabbergasted.

"I knew that regardless of how you looked, you would be beautiful to me," Blaine said, pulling back so Kurt could see his face. "But you - you're stunning, Kurt."

"I feel the same way about you," Kurt said, feeling tears well up in his own eyes. "Seeing you walk toward me - I almost thought I was dreaming you into existence. I couldn't believe I loved a man who was handsome inside and out."

"Loved?" Blaine repeated, barely audible.

"Oh gods, I spoke too soon," Kurt said, panicking. "I'm so sorry, I'm not-"

"I love you too," Blaine said, strong and sure. "How could I not?"

Kurt's instincts took over again, this time inspiring him to give Blaine the world's most passionate kiss, room full of people be damned. He rationalized it as good practice for their wedding, where they would have had to kiss publicly anyways.

(As it turned out, Blaine intensified their wedding kiss by dipping Kurt spontaneously. The public would never lack for gossip during their reign, Kurt supposed.)