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It was despicable. It was a crime, a foulness, a treason. A treason to himself and all he knew that he was. But she—He closed his eyes. Black leather gloves creaked as he clenched his fist in his lap. She had provoked something from far within himself that he had long ago buried deep down. The slow, steady rhythm in himself had been hastened, the still coldness disturbed, the ashes of something forgotten stirred. Like a shell of ice slowly melting away from the slow burn of a tiny flame inside its core.
He had felt her attention towards him immediately. Suddenly it was simply there, appearing like a bright beam shining from out her very essence in the Force. It was so painfully obvious, and he wondered why he had not sensed it earlier. His initial reaction had been unusual, to say the least. There was surprise, naturally, but there was no anger. No pity, no disgust. That had come later, if only directed towards himself for his distasteful behaviour. He knew that he should have laughed at the notion of her foolish delirium, waved her away the moment she entered his office that day. He hadn’t. But what had angered him the most was the intrigue. He could not do anything about the fascination this woman stirred in him. She knew who he was, what he did. No doubt the rumours of his ruthlessness had reached her ears. His presence would put a lump in the throat of any Imperial officer who had the courage to address him. Anyone would avert their eyes at his imposing yellow gaze. Yet she did not, and he wondered why.
For the first time in a very long time he felt unsure.
His fist clenched tighter. No. Whatever delusion had appeared in his mind would not cloud his morals, would not influence his actions. He would not allow himself to subject to any weakness. He reached out for the darkness, felt the steadiness of it, the dreadful chaos wrapping around him like a reassuring, empowering cloak. He would not be swayed by temptation. No force would temper with his own determination. Not even her obvious light. Not her smile. Not the way she bit her lip deep in thought, not the way her hair flowed as she--
With a yell, he threw opened his eyes and rose from his seat, swiping the contents off the table in a single gesture. They fell to the floor with a massive crash and a ruckus loud enough to echo across the empty room.
How dare she!
His eyes flared. He turned from the desk and strode to the great window overlooking the city, letting the fury and the rage fill him, surround him, embrace his mind.
A sudden beep and the soft “swoosh” of a door was heard as footsteps entered his office.
“Grand Inquisitor, is anything—“
Upon seeing the mess on the floor, the man broke off. The Pau’an stood motionless.
“Leave”. He said, barely audible.
The stormtrooper stuttered an apology and left as quickly as he came. The Inquisitor let out a sigh.
How dare she?
He stayed there by the window for a long time. Not until he could feel the darkness restore his mind to its cold state did he allow himself to breathe for air, to feel the flow of oxygen in his blood again. He couldn’t let anything like that distract him from his purpose. Nothing would make him question himself. Nothing to pull him from the darkness.
Not even her light.