Original subtitles

Whoa.

♪ Bring us in good ale♪

♪ Bring us in good ale ♪

♪ For our blessed lady's sake ♪

♪ Bring us in good ale ♪

Not so clever now, are you?

Rugen sends his regards.

I'll take the Leper King's gold,

but I'd have done you for free.

This one's for Father.

Most fish just want to eat.

For pike, say,

I dip a wasp in blood, and they devour it.

But the smart ones,

you have to make them curious.

For you, I chose the dove...

because you think you're so grand.

I dipped the arrow in poison

to squeeze the airways.

So that every breath is the agony you deserve.

Think of Father

as you drown, wizard.

Remember Father?

Remember what you did to him?

You made him into a monster.

And monsters must feed.

Sixty barrels of ale, 45 barrels of wine,

a hundred bags of wheat flour.

We've salted the fishes and the meats, and there are still fowl in the moats.

-But... -How much time before we s--

Starve, milady?

A few days at most. We just have too many mouths to feed.

A conditional surrender...

is our most sensible course of action.

- Aye, you're good at that. - Morgana.

What? Is this bothering you?

You never were very good at standing up to Uncle.

Certainly not on my behalf.

We'll starve sooner...

if your creatures keep raiding the food supplies.

They take what they want, defile the street--

They are not creatures.

Don't be surprised when Gramairians demand their city back.

Then you'll have a war inside the walls as well.

Certainly, anyone encouraging a rebellion will sleep in the dungeons.

We need guards around our food supply at all hours.

Your help in this matter will be appreciated.

Yes, milady.

How bad is it between the Fey and the townsfolk?

Tell me.

So far, just a few fights. Nothing too serious.

But when we start running low on food, I am worried.

I'll speak to Cora and the others.

-Is there any word on Squirrel? -Not yet.

Pym and some Fauns are out searching this morning.

We'll find him.

I've trapped us here, haven't I?

I'm sorry.

There was no other choice.

Uther.

What are you doing?

We have decided to lead the siege against Gramaire.

Are you joking?

The pauldron is too tight.

What do you know about leading a siege?

Well, it can't be that complicated, can it?

We just throw rocks and fire at them until they give up.

I don't think it's a good idea.

We are not asking your permission.

Leave it!

Forgive me, Your Majesty.

The Church lost Gramaire.

Let their soldiers die taking it back.

We think the people would like to see their sovereign defend their honor

and win it back.

It's already been decided, Uther.

Father Carden and his Red Paladins will lead the siege.

We said, "Leave it!"

Father Carden.

The great man.

Your Grace.

Please.

"Abbot Wicklow" will suffice, my goodness.

Tell me a letter preceded us.

It did not.

But please, you must be thirsty. Come inside.

Only water for me.

His Holiness sent me to get a flavor for life in the field.

Much thanks.

I trust I'll annoy you greatly with my ignorance of military matters.

Have you ever held a sword?

Not my strong suit, I'm afraid.

My interests tend toward strategy.

But there is only so much one can learn of war

from the scriptures or records.

This...

is the true crusade.

Not Jerusalem.

Right here.

The Fey...

are the true enemies of God.

We are of like minds on that.

Hmm.

I also must confess an enthusiast's interest

in meeting the Weeping Monk.

They tell me he tracks the Fey with uncanny skill.

He is our greatest weapon.

I hear he sniffed out their camp in the Minotaur,

but they just slipped through his fingers.

This has not been shared with Rome.

How did you come by this information?

Brothers talk.

I likely heard it on the road.

His Holiness is eager to give you all the support you need.

After your setback at Gramaire--

There was no setback.

We did not occupy Gramaire.

It was a resupply mission for men

exhausted from months in the field.

They were loading provisions. The town was defenseless.

I've offended you.

No.

No, not at all.

But the facts do matter.

There was no setback.

On the contrary.

We have lured the witch into a trap from which there is no escape.

And Glory to God for that.

We shall claim the witch's sword

and burn a pyre for her that will be seen all the way to Rome.

And please be assured,

your campaign is our campaign.

I think you'd agree

the victories are not yours or mine,

but God's.

A bit more mine than yours.

So too, then, the setbacks.

We will make up your tent.

How long should we expect you?

As long as God wills it.

- A moment, my queen? - Please don't call me that.

You've earned it.

Have I?

I fear I've killed us all.

You were right to take Gramaire.

Now you mustn't hesitate. Hawksbridge should be next.

Hawksbridge?

We're surrounded by two armies.

Yours is stronger. You command the Hidden.

It's not that simple.

It is.

You just fear the power within you. You're running from it.

Running from it?

You feed on the scraps the Hidden throw to you

when you should be feasting.

The woods beyond those gates are filled with rotting paladins,

-in case you've forgotten. -And then what happened?

We hid behind these walls to starve again. Just like Moycraig.

Fleeing isn't a strategy. We have to stand and fight.

I'm trying to save the Fey. What would you have me do?

Be the Wolf-Blood Witch

and destroy your enemies.

Command the Hidden into their bloody camps,

into their hearts, into their minds. Rip them apart from within.

How?

-I don't even control-- -Let the sword guide you.

It knows what to do.

You want me to be some kind of monster.

We can't run from our true nature.

Stupid.

Stupid.

Stupid. Stupid coward!

You're a coward!

You coward. Coward!

Kill her...

or I'll burn you.

I swear I'll burn you.

Kill her!

Kill her!

I will, I will, I will, I will, I will, I will!

I will, I will, I will, I will, I will, I will, I will.

Nimue.

I'm relieved to see you safe and well.

No thanks to you.

Arthur, Morgana, Pym,

I'd like you to meet Merlin the Magician.

My father.

Your father?

I just snorted an almond.

Oh, gods, are you serious?

You truly are without shame, coming here after what you did.

My enemies sent spies to steal the sword.

Why would I go through all that at Culzean Castle?

-Share my intimate memories of Lenore-- -To lure me into trusting you.

Makes no sense.

I still wish to see the sword destroyed.

But your fates are now entwined.

We must work together to protect you and the Fey.

And when were you ever a friend of the Fey?

For 700 years,

I've stood in the breach between men and the Fey,

giving all my blood and toil

to keep them from tearing out each other's throats.

-I have failed more than I have won. -What do you want?

I have bargained for your life with Cumber the Ice King.

I did not ask you to do this.

I presented him with a priceless gift

that weakens Uther's claim to the throne and...

strengthens his own.

In return, you are invited to his court as his prisoner.

And you're expected to present him with the sword.

But your life will be spared.

- Hardly the offer of a friend. - No, it's the offer of a rival!

For that is all that surrounds her now. Enemies and rivals.

Then we shall fight and prove to them who the rightful heir is.

To fight is to die.

What of the Fey?

If I'm to accept this offer, what happens to them?

Journey with me to the Beggar's Coast

and take an audience with Cumber.

The raiders are closer to the Fey than the Church.

Together we can plead their case and attempt to turn his mind.

You know my thoughts.

Arthur?

If you give this Ice King the sword,

you become his bargaining chip.

He's an invader and will seek alliances against Uther Pendragon.

And you become his leverage.

It appears my advisers agree.

For once.

I beg you to reconsider.

I'm sorry.

We have friends who are still missing. We must resume our search efforts.

You look tired.

Please, stay the night...

as our guest.

Sister.

- How long were you there? - What?

-Were you spying on me? -Are you mad?

What do you want, Arthur?

I want us to talk for once.

We're blood. And we're the only family we've got.

So if you have something to say to me... here I am.

Seeing Uncle...

...leaves a bitter taste.

And that you went to him.

To beg his blessing.

Even after everything he did to us.

Arthur, you brought him the sword,

-of all things. -That's not what happened.

-There was a tournament. -Oh, a tournament!

-Oh well! -Yes, a tournament.

To try to be something. Anything!

You lord this over me, how he took you, and I never stopped him.

But wh... what was I?

I was 12 years old. With debts.

Debts that...

They weigh onto me like bloody chains to this very day.

It's 'cause of our father.

Left scrounging in the dirt for scraps of silver.

Like a stinking beggar.

So, yes, if... if knocking some daddy's boy from his horse

can give me a shred of honor, then so be it.

You're better than him, brother.

That's not what this castle says.

Is that how you judge a man's worth?

-By castles? -By land.

By title.

That's... that's the common way.

You are not common.

Something troubles you.

Yeah, we're surrounded by armies.

Yes. But you have been removed these last weeks. And...

Is it the convent girl?

-I'm fine. -We don't have to do this.

-I can be here for you. I-- -I'm fine. Thank you.

Well, then, um...

I won't allow her to give up that sword, Arthur.

The way it looks, she won't have a choice.

There's always a choice.

You'd rather see her dead than give it up?

I'd rather see her die with the sword in her hand, fighting.

To trust them is death.

Is there anyone you trust?

Your destiny is much greater than you believe.

See, you follow this one and that one because you fear your own power.

But the Cailleach told me who would be the greatest sorceress in Britannia,

and it is not the Wolf-Blood Witch.

It's you, Morgana.

You had us worried, my son.

Is this him?

Is this the famous Weeping Monk?

His Holiness has sent Abbot Wicklow to observe us

in our campaign against the Fey.

So... what have you brought us?

The Green Knight.

God smiles on us today.

Oh yes.

This one...

This one likes to hide up trees and shoot my men.

One of them died in my arms on a ride through the Minotaur.

His name was Peter, if I recall.

Fourteen. Butcher boy.

Got a barbed arrow in the neck.

Died swallowing his own blood.

Are you proud of that, Green Knight?

No?

No answer?

We like that.

We have Brother Salt and his kitchens for the quiet ones.

Uncanny.

He almost passes for human.

Some can, yes.

And that's how they spread.

By fire...

or by steel,

you will sing to us.

And you will tell us all we need to know about your witch.

You want my words, priest?

Oh, I do. I do.

Are you sure?

I know many things.

Many secrets.

Take him to Brother Salt.

What's all that about?

Oh, we've just had a very pleasant conversation

with Father Carden.

We found him to be a very reasonable fellow.

Regarding what, exactly?

Well, we told him we intend to lead the siege of Gramaire,

and he seemed very amenable.

Of course, they get the witch, we get the sword.

But we also agreed a return of most of the occupied territories.

So...

cheers.

You went behind my back.

We thought you might praise our initiative.

You know you are a terrible negotiator, Uther.

Now, I don't suppose you got any of this in writing?

Our scribe was present.

We're sure you'll find the terms...

...quite agreeable.

Who will negotiate these new borders, for example?

They've scourged half of Aquitania.

You were saying?

Oh!

This wine isn't agreeing with me.

Yes, the borders.

Well, we may have missed some details.

We're sure you'll clean it all up.

-Uther, fetch the healer. -Yes, Mother?

-Fetch the bloody hea-- -Fetch what?

Of course, we forgot to mention

that we had...

...Borley inquire...

...quite discreetly, of course,

into the circumstances of our birth.

Not easy, we can assure you.

You went to very great lengths to conceal your tracks.

However,

with the resources of the Crown,

we found a single record...

of a peasant girl named Sylvia.

She worked a farm...

quite close to the castle,

and she died,

rather mysteriously,

after drinking a cup of spiced wine.

She was only 19 years.

Was this her?

Was this our mother you had killed?

These last few days,

we have thought a great deal about this Sylvia,

about the kind of mother she might have been to us.

And let's be honest,

it's no surprise you gave birth to a stillborn.

We imagine it would be very hard for any child to live inside of you.

With all that cold blood.

So whatever fantasies we've entertained these last few days,

of a life we'll never know,

of a kindness we'll never feel...

let this final toast between us

erase all doubt.

I am now

and forever...

your son.

Borley!

Borley, come quickly!

- I'll send for the healer! - Don't bother, she's gone.

-There may still be-- -She's...

gone.

Prepare your horse.

I have a message for you to deliver.

Yes...

Your Majesty.

His Majesty Uther Pendragon

congratulates the Fey Queen on her military victory,

but has sent me with the terms for your surrender.

-There will be no surrender-- -Speak your terms.

The Fey army must surrender its weapons and leave Gramaire within 24 hours,

at which time you will present yourself to His Majesty's forces

and be judged for your crimes.

What crimes?

You occupy his city.

I liberated his city.

Well, he wants it back.

The only reason we are here is because the king refused to protect my people.

May I finish?

Should the Fey Queen surrender herself peacefully,

King Uther is willing to show lenience

by allowing you to live out your natural years in his dungeons,

provided you relinquish to his possession

the Sword of Power.

And what of the Fey?

What happens to them?

If they abandon this city and their weapons,

then they may return to their homes.

What homes? Father Carden burned them all.

Well, then they can go somewhere else.

To the roads? To be slaughtered by the Red Paladins?

-Madam, you are in no position to-- -Oh no. I am.

A Viking king made a very appealing offer to acquire my sword

in return for some very favorable protections.

This is all I am prepared to offer.

This is the Sword of the First Kings.

If Uther Pendragon deems himself worthy of it, let him prove it.

Be a king to all, men and Fey alike.

You may go.

Just to be clear.

Were King Uther to guarantee protection for your kind,

you would, in return, surrender yourself and the sword?

Don't answer.

I would.

Man Blood.

I don't understand.

I don't want to hurt you.

Do you know me, friend?

Have you heard of Brother Salt and his kitchen?

Let me introduce you to some of my friends.

"God's Fingers," I call 'em.

Each is named for his Archangels.

This is Michael.

See? When I put Michael in the fire, he glows a beautiful white.

Even I can see it.

The light of truth.

For Michael is truth.

You can only speak truth to Michael.

Uh-huh.

But don't worry.

You will meet them all.

- When did this happen? - A few hours ago.

A Tusk and his mates beat a miller to death

for having a painted red cross on his door.

-They all painted crosses on their doors. -I know.

What is your name?

Answer her.

Bu'luf.

You're aware the Red Paladins took this city first, are you not?

And that non-Christians were singled out,

hung on stakes and burned to death?

As a result, many of Gramaire's people painted crosses on their doors

to protect their families.

The young have war blood.

After battle, they...

they...

After a battle, the blood is still hot,

and they get into fights.

Then go back to your caves,

because you're animals

with no place in the civilized world!

Enough!

Bring him forward.

I made it clear when we took this city,

no humankind were to be harmed.

It was not a request but a command from your queen.

What is on your hands?

Man blood.

Man blood.

You defied me.

Do you think that's funny?

Ya!

Defy me again, I'll have your head!

Get your filth--

Stay back.

Go!

Hang them from the gates.

Hang them from the gates!

This one breaks slow.

Some soup,

then we start again.

Don't be afraid, Ash Man.

I don't bite.

It's those eyes.

The mark of the Ash Folk.

There haven't been any in these lands for centuries.

How did you find your way here?

Have you just come to watch me die?

Why didn't you tell them?

Before...

you could have told them. But you didn't. Why?

Because all Fey are brothers.

Even the lost ones.

This suffering, it will cleanse you.

You parrot their words,

but you know it's all lies.

I can feel it in you, my brother.

You are not my brother.

They have turned your mind so far inside out...

that you don't know the difference between kindness...

and hate.

Who did this to you?

We are saving souls.

Your soul.

Tell that to the little ones that you burn.

I don't harm the children.

You burn their homes,

you slay their mothers and their fathers,

and you watch your Red Brothers

run them down on horses.

And you see it all through those weeping eyes.

That makes you guilty.

Brother!

You can fight.

I've never seen anything like it.

You could be our greatest warrior.

Your people need you.

You are not my people.

Then tell them.

If this is where you belong,

tell them what you are.

I'll pray for you.

And I for you.

Just a moment.

-Am I intruding? -Not at all.

Please.

What's happened?

Is this what it felt like?

Yes.

King Uther has sent us a messenger.

But I fear to give it up.

Naturally.

But if I do, will it end all of this suffering?

Will it?

I wish I knew.

What's the point?

What difference does it make?

The difference is, your life may be spared.

But my people will die.

You can't save them, Nimue.

The Age of Men is upon us.

First, they took the rivers.

And so the Fey hid in the forests.

When they came for the trees,

the Fey hid in the caves.

Then the swamps.

Some evolved to the mountain rocks.

Some to the under-Earth tunnels.

Then the men built their mines and came for the iron hidden there.

And so it has been for a thousand years.

You can't change this, Nimue.

-Then I will share their fate. -No.

Why not?

I'm not yours to save.

What point is there in being a martyr to your race

when there are none left to worship you?

Any fool can die.

Living takes imagination.

Please reconsider the Ice King's offer.

Please.

Milady?

Milady?

-Oh, you're talking to me? -You live in the castle, don't you?

-Uh, yeah, I suppose, for the moment. -May I clean for you?

I'll work hard. I'll take food for payment.

It won't cost you.

I do my own wash.

Thanks.

I stitch as well.

Sorry.

Shoe mending?

Cooking?

My father is ill, you see, and we need the work.

I'm not the one to ask. I can check for you though.

I'm sure if you just bring me in, no one will notice in such a big castle.

If you don't like my work, just send me away.

I'm really not looking for any help.

So my father should just die, is that it?

What? No.

You're one of those, aren't you?

Those that pass for human,

just like her.

Piss off.

You're not, you know.

You're not human.

Green Knight?

Squirrel? No.

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

-We've got to get you out. -You have to get out of here now.

-Go, Squirrel! -I won't leave you here.

Percival!

I can't.

My legs don't work.

I can't run.

Leave me.

I won't.

Nimue needs you.

Percival,

I wish I had a hundred with your courage.

Now kneel.

Quickly. Quickly.

A knight of the Fey...

...is one with the land,

as enduring as the Great River...

...and as true as Arawn's bow.

We are born in the dawn...

To pass in the twilight.

Be brave now.

Hurry, before they return.

The Green Knight commands it.

What have we here?

No! Leave him alone! He's just a boy!

I'll gouge your bloody eyes out!

Too late.

Everyone all right?

Father Carden.

Your Majesty.

We understand there was communication with the witch.

We had hoped, in fact, agreed,

that any negotiation would be coordinated by the Church.

Coordinated?

Is this the same way you coordinated your attacks on the Fey villages with us?

With all due respect, Your Majesty,

the cleansing of the Fey is...

an act of charity,

the act of a friend,

missions for which we seek no reward.

And you have stolen our lands,

terrorized our people,

turned many of them against the Crown

and into the arms of a Fey peasant girl.

And you have the audacity

to call this the act of a friend?

Father Carden is no politician, Your Majesty,

but a soldier of God.

No offense was intended.

His Majesty desires the Sword of Power, of course.

The Church, too, desires the sword.

Acquiring such an important Fey relic

would strike them a spiritual death blow, so to speak.

But...

as friends,

we understand His Majesty's needs,

particularly at this time of uncertainty.

Therefore, I propose a swap.

The sword for the witch.

Burning this terrorist would surely have the same demoralizing effect.

No.

No?

The Fey girl has aroused the passions of the mob.

Burning her now would only arouse them further.

We shall keep her as our prize until those passions subside.

Only then will we consider whether or not to hand her over to the Church.

And the Fey behind Gramaire's walls?

-Have you-- -Oh, they shall be given ships

to journey north.

Let them fall off the face of the Earth for all we care.

This will be seen as a victory for the Fey over the Church!

Well, if the Church takes exception,

we have assembled 5,000 soldiers to answer your grievance.

This is an outrage!

We must urgently take this matter up with the Holy Father.

Now, you listen, Father Carden,

before you wage war with the king of England--

A false king. A whore's son.

And you, Abbot Wicklow, are in my camp.

You best remember that.

What is this?

Fey scout. Caught him in the kitchens trying to free the Green Knight.

How many are with you, boy?

How many?

-Enough to kill you, you paladin scum. -Oi!

Have Brother Salt take his measure.

And tell him to start with that foul tongue of his.

He's just a boy.

He's no threat to us.

You.

Take him away.

Why would you embarrass me?

Why?

Yes?

There was a letter.

King Uther's offered ships to the Fey.

In return for my surrender.

-No. No. No. -It's the right thing.

-No, we'll find another way. -There is no other way.

I sent my answer.

I accepted.

You can't.

I have to.

I... I won't leave you.

You have to.

I trust you.

And they need you.

-I won't. -You must.

They'll be safe.

The Fey will live.

♪ You'd die♪

♪ For what I care to give away♪

♪ They're holding me But I don't wanna stay♪

♪ Bury me♪

♪ Steadily♪

♪ Cold blue lips♪

♪Reaching still Holding on for one last wish♪

♪ Would you give it up Just to have a little? ♪

♪ Would you give it up To be in the middle? ♪

♪ We're all going down We all want a crown ♪

♪ And they all want me now But I don't wanna drown ♪

♪ I could be your king♪

♪ I could be your♪

♪ I could be your king♪

♪ I could be your♪

♪ I could be your king♪

♪ I could be your♪

♪ I could be your king♪

♪ I could be your king♪

♪ I could be your♪

Father Carden.

I'm Eydis, first daughter of Cumber,

the one true blood heir to House Pendragon.

You asked for our help to kill the Wolf-Blood Witch.

My father says, "Yes."