All language subtitles for Legend.of.the.Seeker.S02E13.Princess

Fear not,
Sister Portia.

The Keeper
of the Underworld

will reward you
for your sacrifice.

I have no fear.

I long only for his embrace.

It will soon be yours.

Now.

Sister Nicci?

You've brought me back.

The Mother Confessor
still walks,

and only your han
is strong enough to kill her.

I think I know
a way to find her.

How about some rosemary?

Ooh, good.

What would your mothers say?

About our ability to create
ambrosial delights

from roots and herbs
scavenged from the wilderness?

No, about two strong men
fussing over the fire

while a woman chops wood
for them.

On a good team,
each member performs

in accordance
with their abilities,

and judging by your recent
attempts to produce

something approximating
corn cake,

it might be best for you
to stick to chopping.

Kahlan!

Richard, wait!

Hyah!

Kahlan!

They flew over that ridge.
I can't see which way they went.

Gars are hungry beasts.

Only trained ones save
their prey until later.

And the only trained Gars
in the Midlands

are the personal pets
of the Margrave of Rothenberg,

the richest man
in all the territories.

Rothenberg is days
from here,

Kahlan could be dead
by the time we get there.

If the Margrave had ordered
his Gars to kill her,

she'd be dead already.

He must want her alive
for some reason.

Well, let's go before
he changes his mind.

I must warn you.

The ancient Lords of Rothenberg
had a powerful spell

of protection cast
on the walls of their realm.

Within those walls,
no magic has any power.

Not my wizardry,
not Cara's Agiels--

Not Kahlan's confessor power.

Hyah!

Herald.

Margrave?

Do you know
who this woman is?

Yes, Your Majesty.

I saw her once, sitting
in judgment in Aydindril.

She is Kahlan Amnell,
the Confessor.

Send word to our friend
that we're ready

to complete
our agreement.

What agreement?

Who are you talking about?

You'll find out soon enough.

Take her to the dungeon.

You're a fool if you think

the Seeker isn't
going to find me.

He'll never get here in time.

Nobody has ever escaped
the Margrave's dungeon.

There's always a way out.

You don't know the Margrave.

I take it you do.

I'm his wife.

What are you doing
in his dungeon?

My husband has grown
tired of me,

and wishes to marry another.

But the Law
of Right and Good

forbids anyone to break
their marriage vows

so he has
sentenced me to death.

On what grounds?

He needs none.

According to the law,

the Margrave's word
is final and absolute.

I'm Kahlan Amnell,
the Mother Confessor,

and the only laws
in the Midlands

are the ones
that I enforce.

I've never heard of this
Law of Right and Good.

But I swear to you on
the Creator and all the Spirits

that I am going
to get us out of here.

No.

When the Margrave chooses
his new bride,

his executioner is going
to take me to the block.

And I must accept that.

Sister Nicci.

You spent
your life praying

to be united
with the Keeper.

And now here you are,
back in the world of the living.

My sisters
brought me back

so I could do what you
and your minions

failed to do,
time and again:

capture the Mother Confessor.

If you have
the Mother Confessor,

then why are you not laying
her lifeless body at my feet?

I sent word to the Margrave
of Rothenberg,

asking him to send
his Gars for her.

She's at the Margrave's dungeon,

a place where the Seeker
and his friends

will be unable
to use magic to rescue her.

Very clever.

So clever, in fact,
that I'm left wondering

what you might possibly
need from me.

In exchange for turning
the Mother Confessor over to me,

the Margrave wants a guarantee,

signed in the Keeper's blood,

that when the Keeper
puts an end to all life,

he and his court will be granted
eternal immunity from death.

Do you think the Keeper

is interested
in almost winning?

Remember the Prophecy,
Darken Rahl.

As long as the Mother
Confessor's pure heart beats,

the Keeper is doomed to fail.

A handful of lives
isn't many to spare,

in exchange for millions.

I will convey your message
to the Keeper,

and persuade him
to accept your terms.

We could tunnel under
the ramparts there.

They don't look more
than 20 hands thick.

We have no time
for tunneling.

There's almost
no time at all.

With the help
of a listening spell,

I've done some eavesdropping
outside the walls.

There's a rumor that
the Margrave has struck a deal

with the Sisters
of the Dark.

What kind of deal?

Eternal life for the Margrave
and his court,

in exchange
for Kahlan's head.

We have to get in there.

We can get over the wall.

And once we're inside?

It'd be
three against hundreds,

with no magic
at our disposal.

I believe
there's another way.

Apparently, the Margrave
is about to choose a new bride,

to share with him
the eternity

he is purchasing
with Kahlan's life.

Every high-born beauty
in the Midlands

has been competing
to be chosen

but the Margrave
has narrowed the selection

to the Countess of Dunstable
and the Princess of Thryce.

They'll both be arriving
at the palace tomorrow morning,

where the Margrave--
Why are you telling us

the local gossip,
when Kahlan is going to be

handed over to
the Sisters of the Dark?

Because the Margrave has known
the countess for years,

but he knows the princess only
by her glowing reputation.

He has never actually
laid eyes on her.

If the princess
and her retinue

happened to be intercepted
on their way,

we could arrive
at the palace in their place,

and be welcomed
with open arms.

All we'd need is a princess.

Hm.

Oh, no. Mm-mm.

Cara, it could work.

- I'm no princess.
- No, you're not.

Especially not this princess,

who is renowned
for her delicacy, her charm,

and most especially
her virtue.

But the impossibility
of the task

must not prevent us
from undertaking it.

Her Serene Highness,

Princess Lorelyn of Thryce.

I think we should dig
the tunnel.

Prince Roderick,

renowned for his golden locks,
and his prowess.

He doesn't look
like much of a fighter.

Not that kind of prowess.

His reputation is not
the only thing

that precedes him
into the room.

If the stories are true,

he's won the favors
of a thousand women.

Wives have been known
to poison their husbands

for a chance to be
number 1001.

And I shall impersonate

the princess' beloved aunt,

the Dowager Duchess
of Thryce.

Zedd, I thought you couldn't use
magic to change our appearance.

The spell would dissolve
once we passed the gates.

I don't need magic
to perpetrate the illusion,

just a little color on my cheeks
and my skills as a thespian.

Now, to find a quiet place
where our royal friends

can take a nice
long magical nap.

What's that?

Chamomile, quince
and a touch of saffron.

My mother's recipe for putting
a little gold in her tresses.

Should work
just as well on you.

Would that your transformation
were as simple.

You must
unlearn everything

you know and believe.

To begin with,
you must never look any man

in the palace directly
in the eye.

You must never speak
your mind on any subject,

but always
defer to the opinion

of your
masculine betters.

There's no such thing.

Exactly the attitude

you must abandon.

Most challenging of all,

when in the Margrave's
presence,

a lady must always,
without exception,

speak in rhyming
dactylic tetrameter.

In what?

A poetic meter,

in which each line
consists of four groups

of three-syllable phrases
with the accent

on the first syllable,

and the first syllable
of the fourth phrase

of each line must rhyme
with the corresponding syllable

on the line before it.
Hm?

You're making this up.

I passionately wish
I were.

I shall demonstrate
by example.

If the Margrave
were to ask you

"Hasn't the weather
been nice lately?"

You might answer,

"The night was a tumult
of thunder and storm,

but ever since then
it's been lovely and warm."

Care to try?

There is no way I'm going
to win this competition.

You don't have to win.

You just need to keep us
in the game long enough

for Richard to find
Kahlan and rescue her.

Her Luminous Majesty,
the Princess of Thryce.

Her brother,
Prince Roderick the Golden.

Her Eminence, the Dowager
Duchess of Thryce.

Her Celestial Munificence,

the Countess Drucilla
of Dunstable.

And her companion, the
Viscountess of Wollingsworth.

Welcome, Your Highnesses.

Drucilla, my friend,

is your father the count
feeling any better?

If at the Creator's feet
I did kneel,

and she were to grant me
the power to heal,

no greater balm
could my father desire,

than the wishes that issue
from you, my dear sire.

No greater balm
could I desire,

than your grace
and charm in my home.

I have received
many glowing reports

of your beauty,
princess,

but even the most
glowing of all

failed to do justice
to your radiance.

I take it your journey
was pleasant and safe?

The journey was lovely.

With only one minus:

How long it took to travel

to the palace
of Your Highness.

I confess that I'm puzzled.

I heard that in the art
of meter and rhyme,

nobody surpasses
the Princess of Thryce.

If I may request
your permission to speak,

O great one, before whom
the mighty are meek.

By all means, duchess.

From the rigors of travel
the princess is weary,

her senses are dulled
and her vision is bleary,

but I can assure you
that when she has rested,

the best you have heard

is quite sure to be bested.

I hope that's the case.

If not, I'll soon be
thanking your niece

for taking the trouble
to travel all this distance,

and wishing her a safe
and speedy journey home.

There are only
five guards.

If you help me get them all
into the cell, I can take them.

That's impossible.

Women are forbidden
to take up arms.

It's the law.

Luncheon is served,
Your Highness.

Thank you.

Why did you thank him?

Why did you
look down like that?

Because I'm no longer
the reigning monarch,

and by the Law of Right and Good
only the reigning monarch

can look into
the countenance of a man.

Arla, does the Law
of Right and Good

command you to die?

The law says that
if a woman disobeys her husband

she will wander forever
in the Underworld,

without family or friends,
utterly alone.

But if she dies
in accord with the law,

she will be reunited
with her loved ones,

in eternal peace.

Zedd
With grace, Cara.

Grace. The gavotte
is a courtly dance,

not a military march.

Turning out, and--

Turning out, not in.

Why am I still in this room?

Because if you go
nosing about

the Margrave's palace
without his permission

you'll be stopped by
the first guard who sees you.

We're to wait until
the Margrave summons us.

As I was saying.

Who is it?

It is I,
the Margrave's Herald.

Forgive my intrusion.

The Margrave has requested
the princess' presence

in the throne room.

Inform the Margrave
we shall come at once.

Of course, duchess.

If you will inform the princess
that she is looking lovely.

Uh, as--
As is her aunt.

Who has brought to the stone
confines of Rothenberg

a welcome breath
of elegance and grace.

In order to comply
with the Margrave's request,

the princess must complete
her toilette.

I think you
have an admirer.

Is there any reason
why I shouldn't?

Your Majesty,
may I ask you a favor?

You have only to name it.

I've always
dreamed of seeing

the wonders of the Palace
of Rothenberg.

Would it be all right
if I did some exploring?

. Give Prince Roderick
the royal tour.

And see that you stay
close by his side.

We wouldn't want our guest
losing his way.

And this is the very spot
that the Duke of Aspasia

was murdered in cold blood
by his mad nephew Hamling.

Fascinating.

You can see traces of his blood
on the keystone of that arch.

Oh, madam, you've dropped
your handkerchief.

I believe that was
an invitation, sir.

Of course, an invitation.

So the stories are true,
Your Highness?

A thousand conquests
to your name?

Well, who keeps count, really.

Whatever the numbers may be,
perhaps you're in a position

to offer me some advice?

In, uh, a matter
of the heart.

Would the object
of your affection

happen be my aunt, sir?

I've been alone in this palace
for a long time.

I could put in a word
for you,

if you'll do me
a favor in return.

Anything, sir.

I'm building a dungeon
back in Thryce,

and I've heard
there's nothing equal

to the one
you've got here.

I'd love to have a look at it,
maybe get some ideas.

Alas, that is one favor
I am forbidden to grant.

You see, the entire north wing,
which houses the dungeon,

is off limits to visitors.

Well, unfortunately,
my aunt's petticoats

will be off limits to you, sir.

The stones for the dungeon

were dragged by oxen
from the quarry at Rivington.

These are the famous
Gates of Misery.

Each of the panels weighs
27 imperial tons.

My interest in the dungeon
isn't strictly architectural.

Of all the women whose delights
I have sampled,

the one I've wanted most...

...the Mother Confessor,

has always been
too dangerous to touch.

But now, if the rumors
are true,

she's within my reach,

in a place where
her magic has no power.

If you were to get me
passed those gates,

I would do more than put in
a word for you with my aunt.

I could virtually
assure you of success.

The only key to the dungeon

is in the Margrave's
personal possession.

And at the moment,
nobody is allowed

through the Gates
of Misery.

Not even the jailers
guarding the prisoners

in the cells will be allowed
out of the dungeon until--

Until what?

Forgive me, sir.

I believe it is time
we returned to the throne room.

Your palace is stunning,
O Margrave serene.

The gardens the loveliest
I've ever seen.

The lilies, the roses,
the hyacinths blue,

all gather their beauty

in tribute to you.

Clean that up at once!

Servants these days
are hopeless, my liege.

One feels in one's house
as if under siege.

Too true, countess.

In my father's day,
people knew their place.

There was such a thing
as discipline.

When my servants drop things,
or grumble, or whine,

it's never too long before
they're back in line.

Tell me how you manage it,
princess.

Once, long ago,

I was training a slave,

who endeavored
most stubbornly

not to behave.

So I cut off a finger
or two with a knife,

and threatened to slaughter
his child and his wife.

Then I stripped him down naked,
and strapped to a horse,

I dragged him through miles
of bramble and gorse,

poured salt in the wounds
and rolled him in rubble,

and that was the last time
he gave any trouble.

Impressive.

I'll have to give it a try.

The dungeon
isn't heavily guarded,

but only the Margrave
has the key.

There may be a way
to get it from him.

Have you noticed the way

the women in the palace
look at you?

Noticed?

I've already had three
handkerchiefs

and a garter belt
slipped into my pockets.

Why?

The Margrave's sister
Millicent may know where

her brother
keeps the key.

If you were to work
your charms on her--

Or should I say
Prince Roderick's charms.

--perhaps you could convince
her to get it for you.

Where is she?

Over there.

No, not that one.

The other one.

May the Spirits
be with me.

Oh, princess,

I'm filled with
much admiration.

You must show the Margrave
your lovely creation.

My humble attempt
could not ever compare

with something so elegant,

simple and spare,
so filled with the light

of the good and the true.

Alas, what you see
is the best I can do.

Perhaps the princess
has not yet recovered

from the rigors of travel?

When her mother was killed
in a fall from the saddle,

she was raised by her father
on the trail of battle.

While deficient,
perhaps,

in the making of lace,

she has mastered the arts
of the hunt and the chase.

The forests of Rothenberg,
so I am told,

are teaming with Shadrins
ferocious and bold.

Would it be asking
a favor too terribly blunt,

if I begged you to give us
the thrill of a hunt?

A wife I could hunt with.

Now, that would be
something worth having.

Does the idea of a hunt sound
like fun to you, countess?

That which
amuses the Margrave,

of course, is to me,
of amusement,

the ultimate source.

Then we shall have
a hunt this afternoon.

Herald, see to the arrangements.

Oh! Ha-ha!

You know what?

Bedchambers are so boring.

Have you ever sampled
the delights of love in chains?

Sounds exciting.

Then shall we continue
this in the dungeon?

I wish we could,

but only my brother
has the key.

Oh.

Get it from him.

Women are never allowed

to carry the keys
to anything.

But that's all right.

We'll make our
own chains right here.

Unhand her, knave.

Thank you, countess,
for alerting me

to this violation
of my sister's honor.

Guards.

When you are presentable,
you will stand before me,

and be sentenced
for your crime.

I am sorry to dim

the joyous occasion
of my upcoming betrothal,

but there is no question

that in so flagrant
a display of indecent behavior,

the Law of Right and Good

calls for a sentence of death.

Brother, you're always
so mean and unfair.

If you care for my feelings,
his life you will spare.

After you've chosen a bride,
you'll be set.

You'll have a darling
to coddle and pet.

You'll have a plaything

that's yours for all time.

Why shouldn't I have
a plaything that's mine?

Out of the great love
I feel for my sister,

I will temper justice
with mercy.

Are you willing to marry
the woman you have defiled?

Not willing, sir.

Eager.

It is my greatest wish.

Then your wish is granted.

But until you
are properly wed,

my guards shall stay
with you wherever you go,

to make sure you don't
assault the virtue

of any more ladies
of this court.

And now to the hunt.

I'll never get
near the dungeon now.

I'm afraid there's
only one hope left to us.

For Cara to get close
enough to the Margrave

to steal the key.

You must
do exactly as I say.

When in the hunt,

a woman must never
take the lead,

she must never--
Forget the lessons.

I've minced
and curtsied and rhymed,

and we still
don't have the key.

I'll get it my way.

Without your Agiels?

I don't need magic
to make a man beg for mercy.

My lady, forgive me
for being so forward,

but if your niece
should win,

then Rothenberg will
be your home

as well as mine
for a very long time.

It will be good
not to be alone

in those cold and drafty halls.

You're very forward indeed, sir.

I know I am below
your station,

but my influence
with the Margrave is great.

I could do much to advance
the cause of your princess

over that of her rival.

That is, if you should wish
to share my interest in

not being alone.

Hm.

Oh, the-- The beast,

I have seen it,
its fury outrageous.

Please kill it and save us,
O Margrave courageous!

Ugh!

Mm.

Where I come from,

the raw liver
of a Shadrin is considered

a powerful aphrodisiac.

Would you like some?

Do you know how many
Laws of Right and Good

you have just broken?

It's your choice, Margrave.

An eternity of right and good,

or an eternity of me.

Your Majesty, with the hope

that we will soon be
brothers-in-law twice over,

I drink to your health.

Our esteemed visitor

from the far reaches
of the Old World,

Sister Nicci.

Welcome to Rothenberg,
Sister Nicci.

You're just in time
to join our banquet.

I'm not here
for revelry, Margrave.

I'm here to complete
our arrangement.

Do you have what I was promised?

Our agreement,
signed in the Keeper's blood.

Do you have
what I was promised?

She awaits in my dungeon.

But before Iend for her,
I need to see if the contract

reflects the terms
we agreed on.

Of course.

We've just gotten word

that the Margrave's special
visitor's arrived.

You know what that means,
don't you, ladies?

Almost time to line up
for the block.

Who wants to go first?

We can't wait any longer.

I can't do the thing
you're asking.

Any woman who took up arms
would die instantly,

and be damned
for eternity.

I've taken up arms all my life

and I haven't died.

I was taken from my people
in Nargoth when I was a child,

and raised in Rothenberg
to be the Margrave's wife.

If I die
as the law bids me to,

I'll be reunited
with my mother and father

in the Underworld.

If I die, the Keeper will
destroy all of life.

Do you understand that?

The Law of Right and Good
says that to a woman

understanding
is not given.

And who wrote
this Law of Right and Good?

A man?

No.

The Creator wrote the law.

In her own hand.

And what does the law
say about the Creator?

It is written:

"From the Source of Light

"flows all that is good,

"all that is love,

and all that is peace."

So you believe that the source
of all that is good

would punish someone
for staying alive

so that she could hold
her mother in her arms again?

Do you believe that the Creator

wants all of life
to be destroyed?

I'm frightened.

The Creator will
be with us,

every step of the way.

I hope you're as bored
with this gathering as I am.

Because I'm very eager
to show you

what you're going
to have for eternity

once I'm your bride.

This is an extremely
important matter.

And I'm an extremely
impatient woman.

If you make
me wait a second longer,

I may change my mind.

Meet me in the corridor.

Gracious guests,

I must attend to an
important matter of state.

I beg your leave while I retire
briefly to my chambers.

Very briefly, I hope.

I will do my best.

I fear I have overindulged
in the fare,

I seem to be needing
a bit of fresh air.

Send them away.

I don't want anyone else
hearing my moans of ecstasy.

They're all for you.

Leave us.

Give me the key
to the dungeon.

Who are you?

The person who's going
to get the key from you,

one way or another.

I have waited long enough.

Tell the Margrave that
if he's interested

what I have to offer,
he will return at once.

I would be happy to,
madam.

If I were not under
strict instructions

not to interrupt him
when he is attending

to a matter of state.

Who is this woman,

and why are you taking
directions from her?

I don't know what
you're talking about.

These drafty old halls
have given me a nasty cold.

I know you from somewhere.

I can't imagine
where, madam.

Let me see your face.

Madam?

Maybe you don't remember me

because you're not the only one
whose appearance has changed

since the last time
we saw each other.

But how could I ever forget
the man who killed me?

This is no woman.

This is the Wizard,
Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander.

Impossible.

The Seeker.

- What?
- Kill them both.

Take me to the dungeon.

There's no need
for a weapon.

I will happily
show you the way.

Tell me where the key is,

or there's going
to be a royal decapitation.

It's sewn inside my vest.

Dear Margrave, the sight
of your face makes me sick.

You decadent, pompous,
self-satisfied--

Help!

The Mother Confessor,
I think she stopped breathing!

If she dies on my watch,
I'll be the one on the block.

What happened?

She slashed her own throat.

She said she didn't want to give
the Margrave the satisfaction.

Dark Spirits on
the race of Confessors.

The Mother Confessor's
cell is through that gate.

We have to go.

I can't. The law.

But you fought them.
For you.

But your laws are not my laws.

I can't disobey my husband.

My life is in his hands.

I can't leave you.

You must.

So you can defeat the Keeper.

Your life is in your hands,
Arla.

Only yours.

Duck.

Cara!

It's over, Nicci.
You have no magic here.

You're defenseless.

I still have all the magic
I've ever had...

outside this palace.

Kahlan.

Your Majesty.

Your Majesty, are you all right?

What happened?
Where is she?

The Royal Party of Thryce

was not the Royal
Party of Thryce.

They deceived us all.

They're gone.

And Sister Nicci?

Gone also, Margrave.

Well, if I'm not going
to live forever,

I'll spend my years
with a beautiful wife.

Summon Countess Drucilla.

And let it be known I've chosen
her to be my bride.

Alas, when she
discovered that eternity

was not part
of the marriage contract,

she departed.

Then bring the queen
from the dungeon.

Tell her
all has been forgiven.

It's better to have
an old reliable mare

than no horse at all,
wouldn't you say?

Unfortunately,
the queen has escaped.

But don't despair,
Your Majesty.

You will always have me.

East.

That'll take
us close to Nargoth.

We'll make sure
you get home safe.

Thank you.

Should move fast.

Nicci may have run away,
but she'll be back.

With her powers.

To Nargoth, then.

Uh, not until I get
out of this dress.

Why?

A little lower
on the neckline,

you may never
need another Agiel.

And had you done
this a year ago,

Darken Rah would have
surrendered at the sight of you.

And if you're going
to wear a hem that short,

you should get rid
of the stockings

and show a little skin.

Ah.