‘Kill him’. The words hit Dooku like a pair of laser bolts in the chest; the pain in his useless arms was nothing compared to the shock and disbelief that shook him to the very heart of his very soul, as the man he had given all his trust and all his life to now ordered his death.

He shakily turned his eyes onto that wicked man, his face paling and his heart leaping into his throat; this couldn’t be it, surely? All those years of work, and all of the loyalty he had exhibited, to be cast away and forgotten in favour of a mere boy…?

Dooku looked back to Anakin as he pondered on this; but Skywalker wasn’t a mere boy, was he? He was a source of incredible power, powers far greater than even Lord Sidious’s, and it was all too obvious now that the Sith Master had been hankering after this young man for his apprentice all along; it was all so obvious…

‘Fool’ was the word that now reverberated about Dooku’s skull. He had been taken in by the lies and deceit of the Chancellor, had allowed himself to succumb to the man’s honeycombed words, all of them having been words he had wanted to hear, and he had thus gained the power he had desired, but only for as long as the Chancellor wished it; now those powers were to be taken away.

“Kill him now,” Palpatine added, looking away with the air of someone who wants the slaughter to be done quickly so that he could get on with more important things.

Anakin, however, seemed to be having an inner struggle. He had before him, at his mercy, the man who had taken his arm back on Geonosis three years ago; he had the man here who had initiated the Clone Wars and created the separatist movement; and now, he had the fate of the universe in his hands. Would he kill the man who had been a bane to so many, put an end to the potential misery of thousands, or would he spare the Count’s life and do things the way he should do them - with civil diplomacy?

“I shouldn’t…” Anakin muttered, breathing irregularly as he tried to find the right path, feeling the absence of Obi-Wan’s wisdom more than ever right now. “It’s not the Jedi way,” he went on. “He should stand trial.”

“Do it,” the Chancellor pushed on.

Dooku felt his heart pelt faster and faster in his chest. He could beg, he could plead with the young man, perhaps even win him over, and yet… why should he? He had his honour, and what would be would be.

Anakin closed the blades a little further about Dooku’s throat, licking his lip and fighting with himself over what to do, and all the time Count Dooku watched and waited, fully prepared for death. The Chancellor, meanwhile, just leant forward onto the edge of his seat and willed the boy to do it and be done with it.

Finally, a strangled gasp escaped Anakin’s lips and a tear rolled down his face. “No…” he exclaimed, tossing both the lightsabres aside and turning away. “I can’t… it’s not right, he’s… he’s an unarmed prisoner. He should stand trial.”

Dooku dipped his head forward and breathed deeply - he was relieved but then again he wasn’t. His arms were overtaken by pain and he felt utterly helpless, having lost two of his most useful appendages. His entire body shook with nerves and with dread, and he could do nothing but utter with the fullest sincerity; “You are wise beyond your years, Skywalker. Very wise.”

But then he turned his weary eyes up to look at the Chancellor and there he saw a terrible darkness. Palpatine was furious - his plan had slipped up and he now had a real dilemma on his hands; the man he had wanted dead was still alive, and the man he had wanted for his apprentice had taken the wrong turning at the junction. Things were suddenly not very rosy, and from now on, they could only get worse...