All language subtitles for The Great S03E01 The Bullet or the Bear 1080p HMAX WEB-DL DD5 1 H 264-playWEB (1)_track3_[eng]

Empress Catherine the Great!

- Huzzah!
- Huzzah!

PREVIOUSLY ON
THE GREAT

I am 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.

Look-alikes?
You're not nearly good-looking enough.

Maybe you.

Are the guards fooled by you?

I made 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 she 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's Marial.

- 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!

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

Pugachev.

Fucking hurts.

We've had some difficulties.

Apparently, marriage has challenges.

There was some bloodshed.

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.

24 HOURS AGO

Morning.

Morning.

I...

This is why we're perfect together.

I don't feel too perfect today.

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.

I'm so hungry.

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.

By reason of fucking your mother.

Can we not say it out loud, ever?

Good rule for the future.

The future. What is that to be?
After yesterday, I'm...

I am 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'm 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.

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

You know,
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.

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

Then it is dead.

Sorry. I may have some
latent anger at times.

Understood.

I need to go...

do things.

Yes, of course.

I demand that my wife be released.

Oh, shit.

I forgot about that.

THE GREAT
AN OCCASIONALLY TRUE STORY

THE BULLET OR THE BEAR

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?

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.
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.

- Is that a peach? I could use one.
- 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...

No, fuck me.

This is a relationship at times I find
a little too fucking complicated.

Both alive?
It is too fabulous.

Your love is strong. It is a happy day!

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 goose neck.

How could I live like that?

Is she still going to kill the prisoners?

What prisoners?

Well, hello, and what a day!

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.

Right, yes.

Sometimes,

if days are...

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

I need a word. Fuck off, you two.

No.

No.

- No!
- Fucking hell.

Hello.

I can explain.

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 court's pretty excited
about the bullet or the bear.

- What is "the bullet or the bear"?
- 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... 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 did kill him. It just wasn't him.

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.

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.

We're all relieved. Amazing tongue.
You're part lizard.

Fucking hungover.

She's never gonna give me
what we want.

I know. With him, we had hope.

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--

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.

Had she not tried to kill me,
I would not respect or love her, so...

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.

Right.

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

- Absolutely.
- 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.

- 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.

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.

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.

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'd 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!

Fuck!

Well, that was unexpected.

What the fuck?

- You shot her. You shot her!
- Fuck!

Fucking savages.

Own it.

- You've shot me, bitch!
- Sorry, this is still Russia.

Enough!

- Are you sure?
- She said enough!

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 just doesn't have that kind of heart.

Though, 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.

We wait her out, a gesture of loyalty.

- Morning.
- Oh, my God!

- 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.

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

Turn it.

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.

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.

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 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 fucking 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.

And some food.

Going riding, darling,
and taking some spares?

Should I lie to you,
or do you know what I'm doing?

You're going to break them out.

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.

- 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 macaron I'm handing to you.

Fucking good macaron.

Sir?

The horses.

- 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?

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.

Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter!

- 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 draft, 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.

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.
- 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?

She will be...

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?

Yes, problem.

We have been nothing but loyal to you,
and you have turned on us for her.

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.

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?

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.

Love it.

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.

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'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.

Deer make a rustling sound

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

Hunting is listening.

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.

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

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.

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.

I had influenza
and 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.

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