Ettore | ✔️

𝑻𝒘𝒐

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𝑪𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

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Ettore sat on a throne, his birthday celebration was about to commence. He was on the cusp of turning fifteen. He shifted around, unable to contain his excitement, once the moon was at its highest point, he'd shift for the first time. Like his father, Vincenzo, he believed he'd get a golden pelted wolf, a common trait for the royal lineage. 

"Ettore, sit still," his mother chided to his left. She was dressed in a gorgeous burgundy gown made of the finest silks Vincenzo could buy. Her light blonde, nearly white, hair was pinned up in an elegant bun, two curl tendrils framed her rather sharp shaped face. 

"Sorry," Ettore mumbled.

"Speak clearly, you're going to be king one day," Vincenzo reprimanded from his right. He had been going to private lessons with his father, learning anything and everything a werewolf king needed to know. "How do you expect your subjects to follow your rule when they can't hear or understand you."

"My mistake, father," he spoke up in a clearer voice. Vincenzo said nothing, standing up from his throne making his way over to a group of decorators.

"Why do we have to make it such a big deal?" Ettore asked, watching subjects hang up elegant streamers and bring out fancy food. "I just want to eat dinner with you and father, eat cake, and shift into my wolf." 

"Because you're the prince and your subjects want to celebrate your birthday with you," Analyn adjusted the crown upon his head. "We should've trimmed your hair it's getting rather long," she skimmed a finger over a short whisp that curled out in front of his ear. Ettore couldn't help but roll his eyes, for as long as he could remember his hair was always kept in the same style. He wanted to try something new and if the little whisp curling from the side of his head was the largest amount of rebellion he could muster, he'd take it. 

"Let the kid have a break, Analyn, it is his birthday after all," a voice cut through their conversation making them both look over to see Salvatore. Ettore could remember when he was younger Salvatore would spend the afternoon with him, sometimes he was more present than Vincenzo. 

"He is none of your concern Salvatore," Analyn quipped, "leave everything to his parents." Salvatore's eyes narrow before he walked off. Ettore watched him walk away, his all-black attire contrasted with all the silver and white decorations. Ettore watched as his mother got up to talk to the decorators when she noticed a few out of place. 

Ettore took the opportunity to follow after Salvatore, swiftly escaping the ballroom. He sniffed at the air for Salvatore's familiar scent, and once he caught it he ran down the corridor, his wing-tipped shoes slapping against the marble flooring. He stopped when the trail led him to a dead-end, he glanced in every direction, confused. 

A curtain swayed a bit, catching his attention. He took a few tentative steps forward, grabbing onto the thick material, throwing it to the side. Hidden, french doors with frosted glass stood before him. He reached for the handle, pushing it down, pulling towards himself the door opened. He poked his head out, eyes catching onto Salvatore's back. He walked out slowly, unsure of himself. 

"Looks like you managed to get away," Salvatore commented, glancing over his shoulder. 

"My mom got distracted," Ettore looked over the edge of the balcony. "They never listen to me. I feel invisible sometimes, which is hard when you're practically famous. I just wanted a simple family dinner for once with my mom and dad." Ettore didn't notice the clenching of Salvatore's fists as he called Vincenzo his dad. "Dad doesn't spend much time with me unless it's about kingly duties. My friends at school are starting to talk about how their dads are taking them on hunting trips to celebrate their first shifts, I can't help but feel jealous."