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She couldn't know for sure he'd come. No matter how well she and Master Tholme planned, they could never know for sure he'd come. The whole plan hinges on this, it needs everything they've done so far to be enough. They think it's enough, they hope it's enough, they pray to the Force it's enough because they only get one chance.
It's her now, or it's Quin.
Still, after all the effort, all the suspense, all the uncertainty, it's not relief she feels when heavy boots clack against the stone. She rolls over, lying on the cell's cot, but utterly unable to sleep despite the late hour (or early hour, at this point).
"I had hoped it was exaggeration," says Count Dooku from the other side of her cell door.
Estai sits bolt upright. "What are you doing here? How did you get in here?"
Dooku's expression goes unbearably soft. A pained mix of sympathy and sorrow all for her. She'll give him this, he's a good actor. "What do you think I'm doing here, my dear? I came for you."
Estai shakes her head. She can't make this too easy for him. She can't just fall at his feet. This has to be believable. She's convinced almost every Jedi in the Order that she'll Fall just by being born the way she was. Now, all she has to do is convince Dooku she's not the same Light youngling who had him arrested a decade ago. It should be easier. It won't be. "I have no desire to be saved by you. I am a Jedi, not whatever it is you want from me."
"Estai, what I want from you is to choose to end your suffering. You have stayed for so long with a people intent on harming you in every manner they can justify to themselves. All I ask is that you let me take you from them before they take your life."
"And why do they want my life, Dooku? For talking to you."
"I refuse to believe you are so naive," he says, turning to pace down the length of her cell. "We both know the reason they want your life is the same as the reason has always been: you were born, and so they destroy you at every turn."
Estai replies by lying back down, turning her head up towards the ceiling. It's silent and it's damn reluctant, but it's an agreement. In her periphery, she sees his smile, sees the knowledge settle into his bones that she knows as well as he does that Estai's only crime against this Order is not being as human as she currently appears.
"I know that anger is not the Jedi way and you are nothing if not a Jedi, a protector, a believer in goodness and justice, but even the most masterful of Jedi are sometimes upset."
Estai doesn't take her eyes off the ceiling, waiting for him to get to the point already.
"They mean to execute you when you've done no wrong— and I would know if you had done wrong. Does that not upset you?"
Estai takes a deep breath, and— even with the Force held back from her in this cell— she knows the time has come. This is where and when she convinces him her Fall is the inevitability everyone's always believed it to be.
She remembers time and time again being brought in front of the Council. She remembers punishments for defending others. She remembers always being the assumed aggressor. She remembers strange looks and cruel words, remembers being a punching bag to children raised to always be kind. She remembers the lists of who it's safest to avoid, remembers people sitting with her to distract her from the prank coming up behind her. She remembers people looking at Obi-Wan funny just because he dared to stand near to her. She remembers a training bond forced on her, a violation they'd consider too cruel against any other youngling. She remembers waking every morning to yellow eyes and wishing she didn't have to. She remembers asking her crèchemaster for coloured contacts and hating how they hurt her eyes, but wearing them anyway. She remembers crying herself to sleep because her classmates called her a nexu in shaak clothing for months even after she stopped wearing the damn things. She remembers it all and, oh Force, does it ache.
"Of course I'm upset," she tells him, hearing her voice crack over emotions she'd normally release to the Force. Now, she must use these feelings as fuel, she must show these feelings so he will believe.
Beyond her cell walls, Dooku stills.
"Of course I'm angry," she presses on. She pushes herself upright again, letting herself stare at the cot and breathe. The moment is both for the act and for herself. It's harder than she realised to let the anger fester. She learned young to identify her feelings, to recognise the place they held, to understand their purpose, and to release them so they could hurt her no longer. Holding this anger hostage for Dooku is like inflating something under her ribs and praying they won't crack. When she's ready, she forces herself to meet his eyes, to make him look into the toxic yellow. "But I'm not allowed to be angry. I'm not just another youngling who gets to have a tantrum every once in a while because it's just a normal part of growing up. I'm the Sithspawn!"
"You are just another youngling."
Estai almost snorts and there's nothing fake about it. "No, I am the monster in all of their stories, they have made that abundantly clear. When a child cries out, you help them. When a monster does the same, you prepare for war." She raises her hands to gesture around the cell and lets herself feel exactly how tired she is after decades of accusations. "I'm not even fighting them on it, but they don't care. I'll be before a firing squad soon enough and it would be a pleasant surprise to get a trial at all, even a sham one."
Dooku's expression softens with such grief for her. She wants to wipe it off his face, demand how he can look at her that way when there are thousands dying every day for this war he's brought on. "Or you could show them all what you could've been if they'd shown you even an ounce of kindness," he suggests. "All you have to do is come with me."
Estai hesitates. She hesitates just long enough for him to catch the delay. "Like you said, Count Dooku, I'm not that naive. I won't be your next Kaycee, I won't walk right into the place of your next victim."
"What I did to Kaycee was unforgivable, I freely admit that. I took my anger at the Council out on a child who could not stop me and that is a shame I will bear for the rest of my life."
Now that's quite the change in tune from when they last spoke. What she wouldn't give for this chat to be in an interrogation room rather than either side of a cell door. What she wouldn't give for him to be the accused one yet again rather than her being chained to the wall.
"I give my word you won't be my victim, you are far too precious for that. Please, don't let my past mistakes make you their victim instead."
Estai bows her head, slouching small and vulnerable. She lets her shoulders tense, conflicted and afraid and the perfect target for conversion to the Dark.
"All I'm asking is that you let me save your life," he says again, positing it like a sweet and simple little deal with no strings attached. "I'll take you somewhere safe, what you do after that is entirely your own decision— nobody else's."
It's quite the deal. Quite the trap. And she is quite the desperate padawan on death's row, in way over her head and drowning. He knows he's got her hook, line, and sinker. She knows she's got him just the same. "You'd just let me go free?"
"I'd ask that you let me give you a few things to support your survival, but yes, you'd be utterly free. Free to go, free to stay, whatever is your wish."
It's all banthakark. She doesn't need the Force to know it, not even a little. If she goes with him and then chooses to leave, she'll be dead fast. Good thing she's planning on staying.
Silent, Estai meets Dooku's eyes. It's disappointing how far from yellow they are. Of the two of them, he is a far more dangerous man, yet she is the one locked up, she is the one people know to fear with just a single look. Every Sithspawn has yellow eyes, but not all Sith. Finally, she nods.
"Estai," he begins, one last time, "will you let me save your life?"
Estai, a junior padawan who doesn't want to die because she chose to try to save others, nods. She makes a deal with a monster, knowing what he gets from the contract will never stop changing— she read the fine print and agreed anyway.
"Then please, precious one, let me break your chains."