All language subtitles for The Great - 03x01 - The Bullet & The Bear.ETHEL.English.C.updated.Addic7ed.com

Empress Catherine the Great!

- Huzzah!
- Huzzah!

I'm to be a father.

I've not been this excited ever.

- And honestly, I don't want to be emperor.
- You don't?

I crown you Empress of Russia.

He has a plan.

She will fuck it up, come to me
humbled, sad, and in need of my love.

- And massive cock.
- Marvelous plan.

Lookalikes? You're not
nearly good-looking enough.

Maybe you.

Are the guards fooled by you?

I let the tall one give me
a hand job so it seems so.

- Let us remake Russia, my friend.
- Indeed.

I have to play my part in your reign.

Orlo's plan is to stab 60 holes in you

and then something involving
salt, honey, and ants.

Some of that I would enjoy.

It is a boy!

- With a cock!
- A human cock?

I never fucked a horse!

I made this for Paul using
parts from real bears.

Did you tell them we were coming?

While they were setting fire to my desk

and shouting, "Down with King Hugo,"

I managed to compose a letter.

Of course, you can stay.

Haven't forgotten what it's like
running an empire! It never stops!

And then one day, it does.

Georgina? Why are you back?

- I've been seeing someone.
- Who was it?

It was Mariel.

- This is your cousin?
- He's also my fiancé.

- What?
- He does not want me to suck his cock

and he silences the annoying
fucks at court who want me married.

They're actually together?

Peter is my great love.

She may sit on your face,
but not on your throne.

The Ottomans have encroached
on our border regions.

- Sultan.
- No wonder Peter is cunt-struck.

Catherine's mother is here.

I find you thrilling.

Women don't end up with
men who fuck their mothers.

I will definitely try not to.

I have crushed my wife's heart

like a mouse in a beaver's throat.

He killed my mother!

Overconfidence in window
ledges killed your mother.

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.

- What the fuck are you doing?
- Guards, arrest them all.

- Not me! Not me!
- Leave her alone!

Pugachev.

Oh, fuck.

Fuck, it hurts.

We've had some difficulties.

Mm. Apparently, marriage has challenges.

There was some bloodshed.

Ah, she tried to kill
me, with much stabbing.

He fucked my mother with much fucking.

We're trying to move forward.

- Close the book on the past.
- Wake up to a new day.

Morning.

Morning.

Ah.

I...

This is why we're perfect together.

I don't feel too perfect today.

Mm. Get back to bed.

I think I need a bath.

I really wasn't myself.

Or you were perhaps never more you.

- I just had a bad day.
- Hmm.

I'm so hungry.

Yeah. Killing does that.

Yeah, I once killed three
men and ate a whole reindeer

stuffed with a goose,
stuffed with a pomegranate.

- Fucking amazing.
- I'd rather not talk about it.

Congratulations on
the sultan, by the way.

I'm fucking hard just thinking about it.

He was going to kill me.

But he didn't. Huzzah,
that's great for you.

I had a bad day, which
was, of course, your fault.

Hmm. By reason of fucking your mother.

Can we not say it out loud, ever?

Yeah. Good rule for the future.

The future. What is that to be?

After yesterday, I'm... I'm at sea.

Well, to sum it up, we do not want
to kill each other, that is clear,

so I suppose it is a
happily-ever-after kind of future,

with much plum dancing and sex.

What the fuck is plum dancing?

I am glad you fell into my
clever word trap and asked.

It is a ritualistic spring dance
where an orgy occurs at dawn

as plums fall from the trees above you.

Of course, it is.

Um, I have a country to run, and
I am not fucking plum dancing.

You're much stronger as a leader
now. Now they fucking fear you.

I don't want them to fear me.

You are as handy with a sharp
knife, as well as a sharp word.

And you also carried a
slightly unhinged quality

that was truly arousing.

Mm!

There.

The past must be dead,
or we cannot go on.

Then it is dead.

- Oooh!
- Sorry.

I may have some latent anger at times.

Uh, understood.

I need to go... do things.

Yes, of course.

I demand that my wife be released.

Oh, shit.

I forgot about that.

Fuckin' hell.

- Fuck!
- You keep saying that.

Seems to efficiently
summarize my feelings.

What are you gonna choose
when it comes to it,

the bullet or the bear?

The bear, you have a chance.

To die in excruciating pain
as you watch it eat your lungs.

- Someone once beat the bear, I'm sure.
- No, I can't remember anyone beating it.

- Fuck!
- Marial.

The bears are hungry.

They're supposed to be ravenous.
That's the point, isn't it?

What a great day.

Hang on a second.

In case you all forgot, Peter is dead!

- Huzzah!
- Stop fucking saying that!

It's well past dawn.

She overslept, I suppose.

It was a big day, killing Peter.

We should just do it.

She said to wait for her.

Orlo, we should go find her.

I hate staring at people I'm gonna
kill, who I've known since birth.

It is a strange day.

It is a great day, Velementov.

The future begins.

Well, that was something to see.

The night did get a little out of hand.

I think I just couldn't face
what was going to happen.

I feel bad, watching like this.

And yet I did see you chewing at
your robes to join in at one point.

I am a sinner.

Forgive yourself immediately.
That's what I always do.

And hopefully Madam
Dushenova feels similarly

after what I did to her last night.

I haven't been that twisted in years.

It was actually thrilling.

And yet, deeply reprehensible.

And yet thrilling!

All out of escaping reality, for
today is not a day I wish to greet.

A fucking orgy and I wasn't invited?

- Rude.
- Darling, you're alive!

Yes, but get this. She
fucking stabbed me five times.

You look very well for that.

- I don't understand.
- I put Pugachev in my coat.

Just had an instinct, and even
as I did it, I thought, no.

You saw what she said at the wedding.
Saw, heard, and felt her love.

Uh, her and I in each other's hearts,

but something made me play
the Pugachev, just in case.

And then she just... she fucking
went at me, like a savage.

I'm hard thinking about it, but
at the same time, she stabbed me.

Yeah, I'm, I'm trying to
"new day" it, but fuck me,

I would be dead were I not so clever.

Oh, is that a peach? I could use one.

- Uh, probably not that one.
- I'm terrified to hear the answer to this.

So Catherine is dead?

No, she looked forlorn and broken,

staring at me, as was I, and then
we threw ourselves together and...

Mm. No, fuck me.

This is a relationship at times

I find a little too fucking complicated.

Both alive?

Oh, it is too fabulous!

Oh, your love is strong.
It is a happy day!

Mm, sort of. Yeah, that is
what I can't quite work out.

Is it?

Yeah, I spent all of breakfast
with my eyes on the cutlery,

as she flayed badger flan and gooseneck.

How could I live like that?

Is she still going
to kill the prisoners?

What prisoners?

Well, hello, and what a day!

Uggh!

Now he's dead, we can go to work.

I always felt, if I can say
it, that whilst he was alive,

you could not lead the country.

I feel sad about it. I've
known him since he was a wee...

You cry about him, I'll shoot you.

Waiting for you on the
prisoners, as ordered.

Uh, right, yes.

Uh, uh...

Sometimes, if days are, uh...

Oh, I, I put out a press
release announcing his death.

I need a word. Fuck off, you two.

No. No!

- No!
- Fuck it all.

Hello.

I can explain.

Oh, you're relieved
I'm alive, Orlo. Me too.

All of us, I think. It is a
new day, one of forgiveness.

You, apparently, arrested all my
friends. You need to let them go.

- Don't tell me what to do.
- I need to sit down.

The, uh, court's pretty excited
about the bullet or the bear.

What is the bullet or the bear?

Oh, they choose.

Shot by a firing squad
or mauled by a bear.

If they walk away, they
live. I invented it.

- I didn't order that.
- I... I... yeah.

I thought the court
would love it, and...

Last night, we were killing people.

Last night, we were
rolling through this court

and cleaning out all against us.

Are you yelling at her?

You'll look weak if you let them go,
and, you know, everyone's excited.

Don't worry, I'll fix that.

She's not killing my
fucking friends, Velementov.

I'll fix it. They are loyal to
me, so they will be loyal to her,

as I am loyal to her. Really.

Sorry.

I-I did kill him. It just wasn't him.

And-And then my heart...

Hard to explain, really.

We started something.

We swore a blood oath, and
we've achieved fucking nothing!

Not even the coup, it turns out.

Nothing you've done has worked.

You are a failure,

and I was a fool to throw my
heart and hopes away on you.

Peter!

Of course, she didn't kill me. It
is a volatile love, but a strong one.

That better not be a
fucking disappointed look.

Huzzah, Emperor Peter.

- Return it loaded.
- Will do.

I know. We're all
relieved, amazing tongue.

You're part lizard.

Fucking hungover.

Ah, she's never gonna
give me what we want.

No, with him we had hope.

Ah, Hugo, Agnes.

We should hunt later.

Love it!

- He's alive.
- And so are we.

- I want to fuck you against this wall.
- Who needs a wall?

Well, I find a little bit
of purchase... Mm-mm...

Ah, yes, ah, yes.

I know, I know.

You thought I was dead, and now the
joy you feel is discombobulating.

The Empress and I are at peace.

In truce, in love.

You're alive!

Fucking hell. She didn't kill you?

I am alive.

You fucked her mother, and killed
her, and she still didn't kill you?

Well, the fucking was me.

The killing was gravity, and
we're trying not to mention that.

She loves me. Well, she sort of did.

I played the Pugachev card.
He took some five stabs for me.

She tried to kill you?

We're trying not to dwell on that.
You chaps are in a predicament.

Five times?

And regretted it. Yeah,
I saw it, the regret.

Or you'd outplayed her, and she
was too tired to keep fighting.

Five stabs is a lot.

Anything over three is very tiring.

That's true. No, she
does not want me dead.

I fucked her mother.

If she'd not tried to kill me, I
would not respect or love her, so...

Oh. Shut up, shut up, shut the fuck
up. I came to help you out of here.

So, we can go?

And I'm remembering all you
bitches that came to watch.

- No, you can't go quite yet.
- What?

Well, she still has some
issues around your loyalty,

and the court must see some
cost to your traitorousness.

But we were loyal to you, and we
hate that cunt and want her dead.

But you're together, so now
we don't want that, right?

Or are we to pretend
that we don't, but we do?

I just need to see her.
There's been a mistake.

Maybe she doesn't even know I'm here.

Fucking Orlo probably
just arrested me himself.

She knows you're here.

Oh, right.

I think what we need from you
all is a gesture of loyalty.

- Absolutely.
- Mm. You must all take the bear.

What? It'll tear us apart!

No, the trick is, offer up
something fast, a focus point.

You know, just a forearm,
straight in its mouth.

The bone will crush, it gets
a surfeit of arterial blood,

a hunk of flesh all at once.

- That will hold him, you walk away.
- Stagger away.

- Great plan.
- Thanks.

- Sarcasm, fucking madness!
- I don't think so.

You'll want to black out, don't.

Then it's a smorgasbord of human offal.

Pancreas, liver, kidney, bear heaven.

No.

- No.
- Fuckin' idiot.

- I'm giving you a way out.
- Find a better way.

If she really loves you,
she'll just let us go, make her!

- Of course, she does, fine.
Ungrateful, cowardly fucks. Huh!

- Madam Dymov.
- Petra.

Well ducked.

You seem nervous, so
I thought it was best.

What do you hear?

They're not dead yet,
but apparently at dusk.

And they say there'll be
daily sweeps of the palace

for anyone suspected a traitor.

- Right.
- No one could believe you weren't arrested.

- Right.
- They say she has a special death planned for you,

but also that she is in love with you.

Also, Peter may not be dead.

But there is a press
release saying that he is,

and Karlov saw him walking out of
the palace covered in stab wounds.

Also, there is a new plague afoot
and Orlo is said to be raping anyone

who crosses his path, in the face.

Fuck me.

There is a lot of frenzied talk.

I can't just sit here
and wait for my death.

I could make love to you to
fill the time till your death?

I feel your eyes on me
when you are bathing.

They really aren't, but
sweet of you to offer.

Throw me that Rousseau book?

When I thought he was dead,

I could literally feel a tearing...

my heart and brain ripping,

and then, there he was,

standing there.

And it all pushed back together,

and blood pumped...

and I felt whole.

But I woke up, and everything
is a mess, me included.

And why? Because of fucking love?

I once rode naked in
teeming rain in circles

outside Peter the Great's windows,

singing bawdy folk songs,
hoping he would look out.

Did he?

He did, and I rode three more
hours waiting for him to emerge.

And did he?

Not that day, but I got pneumonia,
and while I was convalescing,

he came to me, and I gave him
a hand job as he fed me soup.

It was so tender.

We give in to our
hearts, a forgivable flaw.

That's all you did.

Yes.

I don't know what to
do about the prisoners.

Kill them, torture them, let them go?

Surely not in that order.

Funny, Archie.

I cannot kill people in cold blood!

That is not me.

That is not the nation I wish to build.

I thought I would write a
speech about forgiveness,

it's a new day for us
all, and release them.

I see your looks.

I'm naïve.

I think people can be changed by reason,

and a few pithy words will
unlock their hearts and minds,

and the good of all will be seen
and sacrifices will be made for that.

Ha-ha. Ooh!

- It's sweet.
- It's a cute idea.

But doomed, yes?

Because when I can't,
as I couldn't yesterday,

and the realities of humans came
at me, I got a knife and took at it.

So what is the answer?

I think you two may be.

- We?
- What shall I do with the prisoners?

See? You do not have
any ideological position.

You merely analyze a
situation, what you wish to win,

and how you would arrange
the circumstances to that.

No morality, no philosophy, just win.

It's warming to be seen, isn't it?

Indeed!

It is terrible of you both,

but what if I harnessed it for my
own good, to drive us to my goals?

You wish to use me?

I do.

And you trust me to further your aims?

You are not loyal, except
to yourself, deep down.

But you are both honest with
me, whether I like it or not.

That is all I ask.

Orlo and Velementov helped get me here,

but they clearly cannot get me there.

I feel you two can.

If we are to act for you, you'd
best not know everything we do.

The machinery may not be pretty.

No, I wish to be taught this way.

It is not my natural way.

I am, perhaps, a delusional optimist.

This will change.

One thing you must promise
is when we are in play,

you must hold the line and trust us.

I shall.

And I'm sure I will be better
at this than both of you,

with a little schooling, of course.

Oh, your famous
confidence remains intact.

I want all this for Russia.

They do not want it.

They mostly did not care whether
I won or Peter won last night.

But I will be the leader I promised
myself I would be, or die trying.

Another speech. God, it's pathological.

Okay.

Okay, okay, go!

Rousseau.

We must rid society of
the blight on our society.

I would love to read this
when you execute the prisoners.

You want me to execute the prisoners?

You absolutely fucking must.

Curious. From the seating
arrangements at the wedding,

you seemed to be on Peter's side.

I was possibly overly
obedient to the place cards.

The place cards?

Years of manners and court upbringing,

which is what we are trying to undo.

Unpick us from our past and
create our future, my Empress,

where we do not obey anything
but reason and progress.

You have my heart.

My loyalty.

Why did you not arrest her?

For she saw into my heart on
my return and knew I believed.

She made me new.

I think I was flattered
I had changed someone.

You're not wrong. I have changed.

And you saw that, in my heart,
when we talked, I do believe.

I will happily watch you gun down
the disloyal friends who I love

for you and this new Russia.

They are disloyal to our cause.

- So passionate.
- It's giddying.

Why don't you start us off, then?

- What?
- What?

Why don't you kill the
first one? I suggest Tatyana.

Surely, Grigor.

She may have some animosity towards him,

as he has spent much
time inside Marial lately.

I...

George?

Of course, I'd love to.

Wish I thought of it.

Let's go, then.

Catherine!

Soldier, get George a gun.

I'm going to shoot you.

Funny.

You can't put me with these idiots!

- Idiots? We're in love.
- Can you just give me some space?

- What the fuck are you doing?
- George.

All hail Catherine the Great!

Oh, fuck!

Well, that was unexpected.

You shot her, you shot her!

Fucking savages.

Own it.

You've shot me, bitch!

Sorry, this is still Russia.

- Enough!
- Are you sure?

She said enough! Oh!

Let's go.

- What the fuck was that?
- You okay, Tat?

I have a hole in me,
Arkady, what do you think?

This is getting very disturbing.

Oh, my God!

You know, the thing is that she
is not a cold-blooded killer.

To bullet or bear all those people,

she doesn't have that kind of heart.

Now, leaving aside yesterday,
as your mother said,

which was just a bad day.

And in passion is one
thing, so we, Paul, may relax

and eat this haunch of venison
bathed in red wine and juniper.

Mm. We wait her out,
a gesture of loyalty.

Ah, morning.

Oh, my God! Uh...

- She's shot.
- She'll probably be fine.

Stop fucking saying "probably"!

An unknown pathogen gets
in there, it'll kill you,

but barring that, probably okay.

- Is she the only one?
- So far.

Window.

No! No! No, no, no, no, no.

It is a new day, a new page, Orlo.

Turn it, hmm?

No more bloodshed!

That is not what I meant
by savvy and clever dealing.

I really didn't expect her to shoot her.

Well, she called your
bluff, so who played who?

Everyone played everyone.
Don't you see that?

We should ponder why she shot her.

To prove her loyalty to me.

So, she's either terrified I'll
kill her, or is actually loyal.

- And?
- And?

And she just cost herself something.

She shot someone on the other side,

so she's peeled off them,
and that weakens her and them.

And the crowd got some
violence, so that was fun.

I don't want that.

I know, but you played yourself
into a corner on that one.

It'll hold you until we find
an elegant way out of this.

To them, the violence
is gratifying, confusing,

and George's presence in it, intriguing.

So you seem to be playing some
torturous mental game on everyone.

So now, rather than look
weak, you look savvy.

Huzzah.

This has bought you time.

I suppose so.

The problem remains. And
the fucking mess remains.

Elizabeth.

Vinodel.

We should talk about last night.

Should we?

Oh, did we... ?

You did things to me.

I was a bit out of hand, to be honest.

No permanent damage, I hope?

I often find the injuries
from a torrid night,

the lingering, slight pains, it's
quite pleasant for a few days after.

You fired something in me,

and when I look at you
now, I must have you again.

I suggest immediately, and
possibly hourly after that.

Well, flattered, of course,

but I really keep things
like that on a high rotation.

A man, then a woman,
two men and a woman,

then something with wood.

My own hand, in a forest
setting, an unwilling guard,

and a serf touching
themselves as I eat cake.

Maybe in a month or two.

- I may just take you.
- Uh...

Oooh!

Like I said, in a month,

sweep my feet from under me

and demand my compliance
with some hair pulling

and a tongue dipped in black
opium, and we have a deal.

I may be deeply in love.

Not something I do.

Ooh. Not good.

I've always wanted to talk to you.

I have a weakness for a military man.

Descriptions of battle make me giddy.

Well, I don't... Yeah.

Here you see a military man.

And what a man.

But I wish not to see
you as an object of lust,

despite your manhood lingering
just below the lip of this water.

- No, I...
- Now, I watched your Swedish campaign.

How it drove our men mad.

You often had them
right where you wanted.

I would've won that last battle if...

if Catherine had not
made Peter make peace.

You would've driven into Stockholm
and taken what and who you wanted.

It fucking haunts me.

It was mine, and I knew it.

And to think I'll die
without that victory

makes me very fuckin' sad.

I might've been the spoils of war.

You could never be described as spoils.

How could I be described?

Luminous.

Will you teach me about war?

Of course.

How to open someone's flank

and split them down the
middle with a powerful drive?

It excites me.

And perhaps I don't
have a country anymore,

but I can still have hobbies.

It's good to meet you properly.

It really is.

- Good cock, by the way.
- Thanks, I...

- How'd that go?
- What do you think?

Amazing.

Five horses.

Ah, and some food.

Going riding, darling,
and taking some spares?

Um... should I lie to you,
or do you know what I'm doing?

You're going to break them out.

Ah, they're my friends,
and she'll forgive me.

The love between us is enormous.

You know, she forgave me for
fucking and killing her mother.

- She'll forgive me for this.
- Everyone has their breaking point.

Well, mother-fucking is usually it.

Except in some provinces of
Belorussia, that's largely true.

However, what does she want?

Loyalty, from them.

No, she doesn't want to be alone.

Yesterday, she felt like a lone
cloud in a sky full of ravens

who didn't speak cloud,

and yet she thought the previous
day the sky was full of clouds.

It's complicated imagery.

She was as lonely as a human can be.

Her love betrayed her, her
best friend lied to her,

her team abandoned her,

her philosophy broke in
a Turkish blood spray,

and her reason collapsed
under the weight of it all.

Her optimism, her arrogance,
her belief in humans as good.

Well, she did describe it as a bad day.

And now, as she hopes to put
the pieces together somehow,

you go and betray her again.

I'm really not enjoying
this conversation.

Shall I dance around a bit as we do
it, so it's more pleasing for you?

- Aunt?
- We could do with some lightness at court.

Maybe she should all order
us to dance for a day.

How wonderful.

They're my friends.

I can't watch them die,

and she can't walk away from it
and let them go, we all know that.

You'll make other
friends. People love you.

Eh, that's true.

There's only one her.

Yes.

I'm dancing away now,
having made my point

in such a categorical
and devastating way,

you can but smile at my wisdom,

and eat the macaroon I'm handing to you.

Hmm.

Mm, fucking good macaroon.

Sir? The horses.

Mm.

- Do you need me to stay?
- No.

- Empress.
- Katya.

So, I need to do something
about these prisoners, don't I?

I thought you were coming to apologize.

I was.

I just thought I'd lead
with the prisoners thing.

Well?

Oh.

Yes, I'm sorry.

For what?

That I didn't kill him.

That you couldn't kill him.

That I won't.

We made a pact.

A blood oath, on this couch,

and I briefly fainted
at the sight of blood.

I remember.

Can we find a way together?

That is the question.

Is he dead?

- Orlo.
- Then we can't.

It's funny, I escaped
his prison because of you,

and you've walked right into
it singing a fucking happy tune.

I thought you would be great change.

But you're just a foolish,
lovesick, cock-whipped child.

You make it hard, Orlo.

I'm perhaps just sad.

I was blind to your faults.

Yes.

And I yours.

I'm leaving a lot behind today.

It seems it includes you.

You all right?

I can't believe George shot her.

Yeah, George saves
herself, that's George.

She shot my wife!

Go home, you animals!

I really hate this day.

If you hadn't shot your mouth off,
we'd be having sex in your apartment

while your husband happily
plays marbles in the other room.

- You're blaming me?
- Just because it's your fucking fault!

Sorry, bit tense.

Me too, sorry.

What if she dies, Tatyana?

My kids are fucking annoying. I
don't wanna have to bring them up.

Touching.

Get a horse, you fuckers.

Ha-ha!

Ha-ha!

- Marial, let's go.
- I can't.

I don't believe she'll kill me.

- Do you really wanna take the chance?
- Kind of?

Marial, please! She'll kill me!

But if I run, doesn't
that prove I'm with you?

Well, you are, aren't you?

Sleeping draught, very strong.

This one?

I could burn your face with a
hot iron, you wouldn't wake up.

Oblivion, ideally. I just need a minute.

Peter has escaped with the
prisoners into the forest.

Obviously, we're chasing
them. We'll find them.

Don't.

What?

Let them run.

As you wish.

"The price of love is grief."

My wife used to say that.

I used to think it
was a personal attack,

but now I think she
meant it more generally.

Most of her attacks were, in fact,
physical rather than metaphoric.

Yes.

She was right.

You're in a cupboard.

If, when I had seen you,

I had run at you with my
knife, would you have killed me?

Survival is ultimately our last
instinct, that is not to be judged.

- Hmm.
- As I do not judge the fact you put five holes in me.

Pugachev.

Well, you thought it was me.

- I did.
- Well, that shakes a man.

How can we trust each other?

Faith.

- Annoying answer.
- Agreed.

So, this is the plan.

You ride off, find somewhere to
live, let me know where you are.

And she forgives you again.

Yes, that is the plan.

So she does all the
work in this great love,

and you do, well, whatever
you fucking like, really.

- Marial, you're yelling.
- Oh, fuck you, Countess Manners.

This is his fault, not mine.

Don't fuck your wife's mother!

Who fucking needs to be told that?

It's a good rule, I agree.

You abandon her as it suits.

What happens when she
finds out about this?

Oh, she will be...

well, hurt.

Alone.

So, are we going or... ?

Just... quiet.

This is bullshit.

Where's your loyalty to us?

I have to risk, for love.

Us, but not yourself, of course.

This is complete bullshit.

Problem, Arkady?

Oh, uh, yes, problem.

We have been nothing but loyal to you,

and you have turned on us, for her.

I-I don't like your tone.

My wife is gut shot, and
you're sending me back to die.

Now you seem to actually be yelling.

Smolny!

I wasn't escaping.

Th-there was some bramble
on the path I was avoiding.

In an L-shaped movement.

Get the fuck back in line, Arkady.

I might need to be carried.

You.

Me.

- I thought you'd gone.
- No, you didn't.

I will live with what you decide.

Right, even if I kill them all?

Yes, although I can't promise
what my feelings will be

if I have to lower
Grigor's body into a grave,

as heavy rain washes
away my torrent of tears

as I kiss his cold, blue lips.

Is that a threat?

Mm. More a moving evocation
of how sad I would be

that would touch you and save him.

The point is, I am beside
you in this, ultimately.

What would you do?

Shoot them all, and then let
the bears eat their flesh,

and then build small souvenir
houses out of their bones

and hand them out as gifts to the court.

Yeah.

- Love it.
- Mm.

I have no reason to trust them, and
they no reason to be loyal to me.

Well, you are brilliant, so
I'm sure you could find one.

- Agreed.
- Mm.

Ah!

Up, now.

- Her stomach may fall out if she stands up.
- Really?

You get up, or it's
the bullet or the bear.

Firm hold of your intestines, then.

What's going on?

Champagne with a twist of lemon for you.

A negroni with cheese
curds in it for you.

- How did you...
- An empress has to know her people.

- Are you going to kill us?
- No, Arkady.

You're going to kill yourself
by agitating against me,

orphaning your children
and making them pariahs

and targets for the rest of their lives.

- Fucking hate a woman being in charge.
- Really, Arkady?

Is the suppurating wound
in my stomach not a sign

that we're fighting
for our fucking lives,

and she's going to offer us a deal?

You want the wool contracts
for the army uniforms?

Yes, fuck yes!

I-I've been asking Peter for
years, but Velementov cuts me out.

I'm cutting you in.

And, Tatyana, what if the
empress and you were friends,

and I came to tea at your
apartments in a public way?

Those bitches would die with envy.

A bad way to die, but not as
bad as the bullet or the bear.

Now, you have an amazing
country estate, I understand.

Beautiful, you should...

Burn it to the ground
and free all your serfs?

I have men on their way to do just that.

- Fuck.
- And then it will be sold off at court.

Arkady, you'll now go to the
Green Salon and have a drink.

Guards will come and start kicking you

in the balls in front of everyone

until you piss blood, understood?

You need to be on your
knees for this next bit.

Wine?

Love some.

Grigor, I've always liked you.

You love the wrong man, same as I do.

I can't fault you that.

So you won't kill me?

I will if I have to, of
course, but I don't want to.

What do you want?

- I...
- I'll tell you.

You want to love and be loved.

Yes.

How does he love me?

Like he's never loved anyone.

So I make him happy. So
there is no grit between us.

No. There is not.

Be loyal.

Now, go join Arkady in the Green Salon.

This better start with the
words, "I am so fucking sorry."

Sit.

You seem tense.

You're free, no bullet, no bear.

As if you could kill me.

My mother was wrong about
much, but not about you.

You and I are no longer friends.

You can remain at court,
but our friendship is done.

Catherine, you're being ridiculous.

I don't think so.

I'm the most loyal friend you have here.

We love each other and forgive
each other for everything.

You had a choice,

tell me straightaway
or not tell me at all.

They are the only choices
on the table for a friend.

- Well, I...
- You made neither,

and I opened my heart
to you about Peter.

And you kept Grigor closed in yours.

I want a friend where I trust
we both have open hearts.

I see.

I can do that. Misunderstood
the nature of friendship.

Upbringing, I blame.

- You can go.
- But I love this idea of open hearts.

Fuck, that would've
saved me a lot of anguish.

You can go.

So he gets forgiven, and I don't.

He is my fate.

You are my choice.

Pithy... and ridiculous.

Walk out, or they drag you out.

I think you two are doomed

and will end in hardship,
pain, and great loss.

You seem a fucking idiot.

But I can take the past from your blood.

- That would be great.
- How do you do that?

Science.

I feel something.

Me too.

Heavy past.

The deer make a rustling sound,

and then a slight crashing
sound when they break hard brush.

Hunting is listening.

Oh, which is why you're so bad at it.

Your mother has a silver tongue, Paul.

As do I, in both wit and on clit.

Oh, I don't think we need to
talk like that around Paul.

Eh, if reality is not hidden from
him, then he will be its master.

Can we just forget everything?

I used to wake in the morning

and just forget everything
of the day before.

Who I fucked, who I
killed, what we hunted.

What you ate?

Never what I ate.

I remember every meal,
every day of my life.

June 7th, 1756.

Mm, lingonberry flan, coffee mousse,

and a carpaccio of baby reindeer
carved in the forest in front of me

and dropped into the
mouth while still warm,

doused in pomegranate juice.

August 12th, 1762.

Oh, I had influenza.

I could only take hen broth,

and yet it was the first
day of walnut season,

and I could smell them,

their soft, milky flesh giving off

a forest scent all around the palace.

Thought I heard a deer.

No, there was barely a sound.

A rabbit, or a hog maybe. But
you shot way too high for either.

There is nothing but now.

- What?
- Maybe that is the way through for us.

There's nothing but now.

There was no past, there was no future.

For right now, looking at you,

touching your hand...

I am happy.

Me too.

- Synced and corrected by chamallow -
- www.addic7ed.com -