For years Tetradore had been forced to endure the terrors and agony birthed from the depraved mind of his vampiric mistress. His body had been broken and beaten time and time again, his soul torn apart at the seams and stitched back together by fragile thread and weakening glue, his mind so often retreated to that world of utter isolation - as if being alone was an armor to wear. For too long he had stood solid against that assault, unflinchingly facing the storms of all Risque threw his way. For too long. To witness Tobias' death, to be the very cause of it, had been an effective battering ram to those fortifications that Tetradore had built around his heart, shattering them into a million of tiny pieces. That strength he'd once cloaked himself in was obliterated, that will to live simply...gone in the wake of his closest companion's life. Those tears fell heavily down his cheeks, tracing wet patterns in the encrusted blood that stained his face. It was almost childish, the way Tetradore buried his features into Matteo's clothing - as if simply closing his eyes tight enough against the world might somehow make it little more than a bleak, awful nightmare. The Frenchman's shirt was balled in his fists, those breaths ragged from the tears he cried as he so desperately clung to the only pillar within his life he'd ever known.

It was but the soft utterance of his first name that broke through the very grief that all but eclipsed him, forcing the man to find some attempt of settle those tears, to push by those overwhelming emotions deep within the void of his darkening, fragile heart. The last thing he anticipated, as those sobs gave way to shuddering breaths, was to be informed the truth of all he had endured tonight - the truth of Tobias' fate. It was a struggle to believe it to be real, particularly after he felt Tobias skin and veins ripped under his claws. The evidence of his crime quite literally stained upon his very skin! His hand lifted to brush against the slope of his neck, the Were-King wordlessly searching for some evidence of a bite he hardly remembered. It was the only explanation Aiden knew that could twist the very fabric of his own vision. Even Matteo had been viewed as an enemy before in the very depths of those hallucinations that could plague him with such potency. The lack of mark upon his healed skin, of even a faint indentation, left Aiden all but incapable to believe Tobias might have somehow been spared the atrocities of his fate. Slowly, Aiden's gaze turned upwards as Matteo insisted her affinities had changed. They'd twisted and warped into something even more unspeakable. Those illusions, those terrors, the nightmares now somehow more real at even the slightest hint of her whims. How it terrified him to even consider the promise of what his future might hold - that life ahead of him somehow more bleak with that knowledge of the power and how she would undoubtedly use it against him in the days to come.

Regardless of what Tetradore believed, regardless of who it had been or how, someone had still died tonight. Someone had been ripped to shreds till their weakly beating heart had shuttered its last dying beat. Someone heart was still churning in the acidity of his stomach. It was that answer of who that Tetradore sought, even though the inquiry of it prompted an almost dismal sigh from the Frenchman as if he feared to provide Aiden the identity of the poor soul whom he'd all but mauled. The vibrant emerald of his own irises, glassed with unspilled tears that gathered upon his waterline, searched the pale silver of Matteo's own. The very truth behind that illusion was hardly much better than the lies that Aiden had momentarily believed in. He remembered the young woman Matteo spoke of well, the skittish girl had been silent the whole drive home when those sobs of her own fear hadn't wracked her frame. He could remember the very taste of it on his tongue and now...now she was nothing more than a discarded corpse, the rest of her body likely fed to the rest of Risque's pets. It was an ending too cruel for a soul too delicate - one that deserved better than what it had gotten.

Those dismal thoughts were interrupted only by the soft brush of cotton against his naked flesh, the very scent of that French chateau all but filled his nostrils as that plush ivory blanket was wrapped around his cold frame. Though the pain that had once assaulted upon his sense had all but subsided, and his body had healed the damage done to it with the Frenchman's assistance, the Were-King found himself beset with a crippling sort of exhaustion when so surrounded by the comforts of what should have been his home. It was almost a struggle, with that distress that laid so heavily upon his heart, to reach for those intangible bonds that linked each member of his pack to their Alpha. The concentration that very action took should have been worrisome and yet, Aiden was far too focused upon the immaterial connection between himself and Tobias - one that remained as strong as it ever was. Softly, Aiden exhaled a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding and yet, he hesitated at the offer to fetch the boy. Even Tetradore was not oblivious to his current state, both physically and...mentally. Although he had no doubt of Tobias' dedication to him, a part of him feared how the boy might react to find him crumpled on the floor of his own bathroom. Thankfully, his father hardly seemed terribly inclined to press him for an answer, the Frenchman instead simply suggesting that his indecision was okay, in spite it all.

Slowly, his attention refocused upon the Frenchman as Matteo softly suggested the meaning behind Risque's efforts - it was always the same, regardless of the years that had passed. She relished in the idea that she might somehow be capable of destroying him, of beating the man's willpower until he crumbled into that simple compliance she demanded of all of her pets. Once upon a time, the very knowledge of her efforts was all the resolve he needed to stitch himself back together, to become more insufferable the next time she called upon him. Now, however, the war had waged on for far too long and Tetradore was little more than a battered flag within the storm she wrought. The acknowledgment of her efforts was all Tetradore gave, the man entirely unable to find it within him to muster some sort of resolve to assure the fae she had failed. Those metaphorical wounds were still too raw, that lesson still too fresh within his mind and Tetradore had understood her point with such painful clarity, even if Tobias was still alive and tucked safely within the depths of his bed. The Frenchman's sudden embrace caught the broken man off guard and yet, for once he hardly fought against that gentle hold. Rather, his emerald eyes turned upwards as Aiden sniffled, Matteo's fingers running ever so gingerly against his skin, wiping away those few remaining tears that had spilled over and run down his cheeks.

It was the soft inquiry of whether he wished to go home with the Frenchman, however, that caused Tetradore to still. He had longed to hear that question for over two decades. As a child he'd all but begged Matteo to rescue him from the torment he was so frequently accosted with. As a teenager, those daydreams still graced him, though he never voiced a syllable of that desire any longer. And now, when he was finally able to retreat to the whitewash depths of the French chateau, she had chained him to the very metropolis by simply allowing him a chance at some life. It was a cruel twist of fate and yet, at that moment, he almost understood with painful clarity why she had simply allowed him to think he'd finally triumphed over her for so long. He had been an idiot to let himself care for them, his very existence in the lives of all that surrounded him, of all those souls that relied upon him, put them in danger. Slowly, Tetradore pulled himself from Matteo's embrace, that retreat from the Frenchman both physical and emotional as Tetradore settled against the wall opposite of the fae. He hardly moved as Matteo shifted to settle against the wall beside him, Tetradore's own emerald eyes attentive instead upon the floor beneath him as he softly turned down the offer. How he would have loved to hide away in the depths of Chambord and yet...for tonight, Risque had won.

That fear that she might return for him was a soft mutterance upon his lips and yet, Tetradore was hardly attentive to Matteo's insistence that her attention was, for now, far from the wounded King. His own thoughts, wavered, the Hispanic man almost considering giving in. That isolation he'd once wrapped himself within so vehemently had kept him safe for so long. He should have known better. Maybe...he could fulfill his own sibling's desires and simply bend the knee to Frost. Maybe it was time to let his self-appointed heir take over his empire, if only for the hope that the more distance he placed between himself and everyone he loved might, somehow, secure their protection. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to become the very thing Risque desired of him if it meant they, his pack, his family, were free to live without the presence of that invisible monstrosity haunting their shadows - one they hadn't even known was there within the first place. He struggled, admittedly, to find any fault in the very idea, the Were-King so lost within his own thoughts that he hardly heard his father's insistence that he intended to stay if Tetradore himself failed to leave. In fact, it wasn't until that hand leaned down in front of his vision that the Aiden was able to focus upon the present. Sluggishly, his vivid emerald gaze turned upwards towards the fae, only for his hand to reach out to fit within Matteo's own.

Tetradore was pulled to his feet, his own gaze slowly drifting towards the floor at the small flick of Matteo's hand. The tile of his bathroom, accompanied by fae's own clothes, had suffered the same fate as Tetradore himself - coated with dirt and, more importantly, blood. Her blood. What had her name even been? Did it even matter? If she was like the rest of Risque's pets - she likely had no family left to remember her by. A soft breath left his lips as the sound of the shower flooded his senses, the steam was an all too enticing embrace. Tetradore moved easily towards that shower, his bare feet pausing only at the sound of Matteo's voice. The corner of his lips twitched downwards in a small hint of a frown, his fingers slowly loosening their hold upon that warm blanket, forfeiting it silently in favor of that warm heated water. His feet shuffled against the white tile of his standup shower, the Were-King all but stepping into the waterfall that fell from the shower head, letting it drench his very form. Those once curly locks were all but plastered against his head, the water rolling down his muscular figure, only to turn a muddied shade of red as it pooled around the drain. His emerald eyes stared down at the water at his feet, the Were-King simply...watching it. A vague part of him was aware of Matteo's movement out of that bathroom and back in again and yet, his own attention drifted towards the hue of his own hands. Slowly, Tetradore rose them upwards, the water failing to wash away the dried substance that stuck to his skin.

Why did he do this? Why did he fight so hard for....for what? Why did Matteo even bother to come after him again...and again.....and again? The phoenix that hung from his neck felt all the more weighty against that moment as Tetradore reached up for it, his fingers wrapping around that charm that seemed warm against his touch. He hardly listened to Matteo's words at the moment, or that promise of a sleep without dreams. His hand tugged at that very necklace that kept him alive and yet that chain refused to snap regardless of how hard he pulled. Of course. Of course she would ensure it wouldn't come off. Of course, she'd take from him even the escape of death. Of. Fucking. Course. His hands reached forward against the tile of the bathroom stall, his spine curving ever so slightly at the simple action and yet the Were-King was too overwhelmed with that defeat to even care of anything at all.