Throne Room (Open to anyone)

If there were any words that could describe him as he sat upon the throne looking royal in the coldest place he'd ever sat, it was cold.
The damn throne was made of an unmeltable ice that should have never came to be. It was pretty, yes, but he had some sort of grudge when it came to looking around the palace. It was like something that should have just stayed within story books and should not have been. He couldn't see why anyone would ever want to live in something so damn cold, or why his advisors found it so inappropriate for him to simply live elsewhere. Sure, the appearance of living in a castle, but being that the entire place was frozen it was a little hard to put up with.

Nor was the throne comfortable, the least the old king could have done was make some unmeltalbe snow to go under one's freezeable ass so they could at least be comfortable while they sat there near shivering. This sort of time really made him consider hiring a person to keep him amused, he forgot what they were called, and there by was more annoyed with himself as he tried to swing his leg over one part for ones arms on the chair, as to see if that would be comfortable. It was. Thereby he swung the other over as well, crossed his arms and just sat there, daring any guard in the room to say a single word about what he was doing.

If anyone did he would probably just reply in a snarky way, there was no reason to go about chopping off heads. Even if he was pretty sure some people were asking for it, but what calmed him was the understanding he was just having some self caused shitty day for next to no reason. Mainly because he was just pissed off about living in a giant well sculpted ice cube again.

No, it wasn't an ice cube.

They at least melted.

A certian Brunette was scurrying around the castle, getting everything prepared for an up-coming party. He had been working his rear-end off for the past three days. In fact, as soon as blinked that morning, he was up on his feet. It had been four hours of doing the monotomous task of cleaning. Who knew ice showed dust so well?

It was late morning by the time Toris entered the thrown room. He didn't even notice the prince, being far too involved in his current task. He turned to a wall, scrubbing off all the smudges and dust off of it. He had to tand on his tip-toes to reach just barely past half-way. He would get to the rest later. He kept going on ike this, never noticing the other.

Ivan glanced over to the direction he heard footsteps coming from. The whole damn place seemed to echo, he blamed the high ceilings and the lack of shit hanging from them, but nothing seemed to stop the echoing until a servant boy was in the room cleaning a wall. Sure, he knew about the party and dreaded having to go to it, but this was kind of funny, watching the kid prepare in the most mindless way he'd ever seen. It was like clock work. Some sort of obsessive compulsive clock work. His head tilted to the side as he just watched the boy, hearing a few nervous whispers from two guards that were standing by one another as they took notice of him watching.

The only people that could have even been at ease by that time were himself and that boy, if he was at all as a person. It was getting to be a bit of a joke as time passed, he had to start forcing himself not to chuckle or even give an amused little grunt.

It wasn't long before he was somehow in a bit of a better mood, his mind off living in ice, and on this young man who seemed to be so sucked into cleaning that he just didn't notice anyone's expression. So Ivan spoke up, giving a little wave of his hand to the boy. "Ah, you," he called out softly, "Boy, what is your name?" His tone may have been soft, but luckily the acoustics in the room were well enough to carry it as far as fifty feet.

Toris had infact noticed nothing of the other's expression, nor would he assume anything was off if he had. He was, in fact, cleaning a wall. His arm was started to get rather tired. He stopped his scrubbing for a moment as to put his hair up. When he started again, his scrubbing was twice as furious. It wasn't his fault the walls got so dirty.

He let out a small surpized noise as he was spoken to. He turn around slowly, looking to see who it was. He dropped to a knee almost immediately apon recognition, "My prince. I am Toris Launitanias." He kept his head bowed and his eyes closed. How he hoped he wasn't in trouble.

Ivan chuckled as he watched the boy put up his hair of all things, having a hard time holding that in. It was almost endearing to watch the young man work away as he did. During that time, Ivan pushed himself into a slightly higher sitting position as he waited for the other to take notice, legs swinging back down as to sit like a normal person. He wasn't at all offended by the fact the other didn't notice that he was there, it wasn't something to be offended by, it was just... amusing.

His smile grew slightly as the boy introduced himself, "Ah, Toris. It is nice too meet you, stand, and come speak with me." He nodded to a spot beside himself, to his left being that the right of him was a throne sort of thing for his future mate or what ever kids called it these days. Whatever it was he didn't plan on having one any time soon, he wanted to make his advisors really nervous about not having an heir.

Toris swallowed. The prince was a very bipolar man. His mood could go one way or the other. He clentched his eyes shut as the other started speaking, letting out a silent sigh of realief. He stood, pulling his hair down and arranging his cleaning supplies in an orderly way.

He then walked over to the prince. Making a slight slip on the ice, due to the fact that he was shaking. He did as he was told and sat to the left of Ivan. He squirmed a bit in his seat, beingit was extremely uncomfortable.