Azar had been avoiding this for a while. It was like ignoring a giant, unsightly, festering wound. Each day it grew bigger and spread its toxicity. That wound was the presence of Trael Osso within his palace. The Pureblood had been allowed a semblance of distraction with his weddings and adjustment to his Kingly duties. He set aside his purely personal ventures, focusing fully on building his empire. After learning that Tempest was weaker now, he knew he would move on becoming the Dark Lord at last.
He half expected Trael to attempt attacking him like a rabid animal when he first approached. Azar knocked sharply on the door to his temporary quarters. Despite being under house arrest, the Sith Master was afforded a luxurious room worthy of his title. The moment the door opened, it felt as if Azar had a bucket of ice water poured over him. He imagined looking into those eyes and that face a thousand times over. He even practiced his own kingly expression in the mirror to appear as stoic as possible. All of that fell apart in an instant. Azar took a sharp intake of breath and had to avert his gaze almost at once. He was flooded with images of just a few months ago when they were holding hands in Naboo, releasing lanterns into the night sky, whispering promises of love, laughing together. He despised Trael, he despised himself, but most of all he despised how passionately he still loved this pathetic wretch of a human.
His nostrils flared and he collected his thoughts. After exhaling, he finally looked up at him, “Master Osso,” He managed with a curt voice, “You are henceforth released and expected to resume your duties as a Sith Master. You will be taking on acolyte Kyssiara Serket as your apprentice as you have robbed her of her Master,” He said, “Is that understood?”
@Javier esschoolbus