The usually mellow Were-King could hardly help the terror that so gripped his heart. The icy tendrils of anxiety so filled his usually stoic form at the realization of all that would surely follow suit in the return of the woman who had once been his Mistress. He had so naively hoped he might spare Isolt the return of her ever-present callousness. If he was willing to disregard his own affection for her and concede defeat in his struggle for her heart, perhaps, she might find sanctuary in the arms of the man she had chosen all along. Maybe, if he was fast enough, he could deliver her none-the-wiser to Damon. If only the world was willing to give him even an inch. If only. In the end, all he was willing to sacrifice for the only woman who had garnered some modicum of love from him, had been fruitless. In the end - the haunting vampire of his nightmares still found them all the same. In her presence, he found himself dismayed into muteness, the man merely standing off to the side as he watched with a grimace the war of words that waged in front of him. A victory would not come easy for his damsel and in this, Tetradore had yet to see any glimmer of a chance to shelter her from the consequences of those sharply uttered syllables.

The youthful vampire's fierce demand to leave was met with the same level of resistance he had anticipated from her maker. Risque had never, in all those years he had spent beneath her 'care', been one to back away. She relished in those challenges, in squashing those beliefs that any could rise above her. He winced at Isolt's sudden assertion that they might very well attempt to plunge yet another stake within the beating breast of the vampiress. Maybe this time, they would not miss. As it was, he could see little within immediate reach to help them in their plight and yet, any lunge he might have made towards any singular object was squashed quickly by that sensation that tugged at his soul. How he abhorred that very feeling that sunk in his very bones, taking control of his body so abruptly in ways that he could not fight, no matter his efforts and no matter the very years that had passed before his eyes. He could hear that threat that echoed in the stillness of the air as his figure moved with poised purpose to the side of the very woman that had stolen him away all those years ago. He knew well that this would not end well. Tetradore had never once been able to successfully shield the usually demure vampire from the greatest threat posed to her - himself.

His emerald eyes met the sweet blue of Isolt's own, his name upon her lips prompted a small, sad glimpse on the man's own features. That beseeching tone was one he more than wished he was capable of fulfilling and yet, with Risque's power moving with such force through his very veins, what chance did he have? If he could offer her anything amongst the horrors that were soon to occur, it would be one singular thing - the reminder that, no matter what he did next, Risque could never change the heart that beat within his chest. His lips parted as he mouthed three simple words to her, the only promise he could still provide her - 'I love you.'. It was in the precious seconds afterward that he felt the tug of the feline within him, overwhelming that human form. How he hated when that change was forced from him! The feline clawing at his human flesh as his body rippled with that transformation. That change was quick, his bones snapping and rearranging, turning man to beast only to leave the form of the ebony panther at Risque's side. His tail flicked behind him with notable agitation, his taut muscles surely giving way his discomfort of the situation he found himself in much the same way his human skin once had.