#ivor:thread

"Yes, mother, I know, I know." Ivor rolls his eyes before fixing his collars. The formal attire his mother got for him is uncomfortable and itchy, but regrettably, the prince of DunBroch has agreed to come to the party. Which apparently includes his mother the queen commenting on his clothes and hair and posture. "And no eye rolling, I get it." For fuck's sake (Ivor could hear his mother saying he shouldn't cuss in his head), he is in his forties and attended this party to be more responsible as a prince. Yet his mother still treats him like a little boy. If that isn't the most ego-crushing belittlement, he doesn't know what is... So Ivor slips away from his mother's side while she is busy talking to another guest. How is he supposed to be taken seriously if his mother is nagging right beside him?

Ivor grabs a bottle of liquor from a passing waiter when they offer him a glass. He steps out to the terrace looking out the snowy field, and takes a long swig of whatever drink it was... And regrets it immediately. "What in the... mint? Come on, what kind of shit are they serving?" He complains loudly which apparently caught someone's ears. "Oh, now don't judge, I've had a long day and this is genuinely terrible. Don't believe me? Here, have a taste." Ivor holds out the bottle, holding it by the neck. Not very princely.

Ivor looks both ways before taking a turn away from his bedchamber. His family is staying in the same tower and, well, he would rather not get caught by his mother or the triplets... Luckily, the prince is actually pretty good at sneaking around after all those years slipping out of the castle and stalking the woods. He wouldn't usually do this... but when he learned that Rory Fields is at the party too, he couldn't help it. The friend of his brothers also happened to be his occasional lover... And Ivor would take the chance to see him tonight.

He manages to get out of the tower without anyone noticing, and heads to where Rory is staying. At the door, Ivor checks his breath, makes sure his clothes don't smell terrible, and checks his hair on the reflection of the window. He knocks quietly and whispers, "psst, Rory, it's me, Ivor."

Thankfully, his mother retired to her chamber which means Ivor can finally let loose. Freedom! As much as it is rather pathetic that he has to sneak around like a teenager when he is a fully grown man, he does his best to enjoy the freedom. He slipped into the kitchen, grabbed a few snacks and some drinks. On his way out, though, he almost runs into someone. "Shit, careful," he manages to hold the cookie jar, box of chocolate and jug of eggnog in his arms. Ivor peeks his head out from behind the goods and finds his brother. One of them at least, "hey, brother dear, you looking for some snack too?" He says with a grin, "if you don't tell mum, I'd be willing to share this with ya."