All language subtitles for The Great S03E03 You the People 1080p HMAX WEB-DL DD5 1 H 264-playWEB (1)_track3_[eng]

Did they fuck?

Disappointing.

What the fuck am I doing?
What the fuck am I doing?

What the fuck am I doing?
What the fuck am I doing?

What the fuck am I doing?

I'm assuming the question's rhetorical,

but if not,
you are pacing and muttering insanely.

What the fuck am I doing today?

Today,
you will give a voice to the voiceless.

One should never listen to one's subjects.
Who knows what they'll say.

- I'm interested in what they have to say.
- You're not.

It's a trick you've played upon yourself
after that American,

with his rat coat and his rat cock
and his rat cunning,

whispered "We, the people"
in your pussy.

These are my fucking beliefs.
And I will bring the people with me.

And to do that, I must listen to them,
hear them, respect them--

Catherine, lie to them, to yourself,
but not to me.

The only time a leader should listen
to his subjects

is when they're screaming
whilst being tortured,

chanting your name in adulation,

or whispering your name gratefully
as you eat their pussy.

- You're very helpful.
- As always.

- Sarcasm.
- I didn't read it so.

Abandon the conference.

I have peasants, merchants,

nobles representing every region
of Russia gathered together.

I cannot abandon

just because it might be
a miserable failure that destroys me.

You're the empress.

You say, "I changed my mind.
Instead, we're all going beaver hunting."

You're the worst leader imaginable.

Spoken like someone who's never seen
the joy and comradery

engendered by beaver hunting.

It will be fine.

- I'm glad I didn't kill you.
- A sentiment I share.

God, I'm actually fucking excited.
It's the greatest day of my reign.

You're mad.

Which we have now established is good.

It's...

"The Nakaz: Ideas and Thoughts
for the Conference of a New Legal Code

"and Approach to the Administration
of a New Russia."

- That's a catchy title.
- I think so too.

- Sarcasm.
- Didn't read it so.

What is it?

A list of some things
I wished to do during my reign.

You could add them to your goals.

"A monkey for every village."

"Rename raspberries 'Peterberries.'"

"All animals should be carpaccio'ed

"and the best tasting
made the national dish."

Visionary.

Why are you two never making a baby
when I walk in unannounced?

- It's really grinding my nerves.
- Ready for our greatest day?

- Gosh.
- Are you all right?

Back in Peter the Great's old apartments.

- It is--
- Yes, our new home.

We're to have drinks tonight to celebrate.

I have this rush of memory.
Being taken against that wall.

- On all fours on this rug.
- Oh, fuck.

You've replaced the bed. Good idea
after what we did to the old one.

We really don't need to--

And right here, being held aloft
on his face as he drove his tongue...

- Are you--
- Coming?

Hyperventilating.

Looks better.

Maggots.
Wonderful fusion of nature as science.

Also tasty on toast
when paired with foie gras.

My right arm is paralyzed since I started
drinking this solution you gave me.

Shit.

I got to start labeling these.

It's the wrong one. Sorry.

- It'll pass.
- When?

Well, the human body is a mystery,
so I can't give you a "when."

Yet you can give me something
to paralyze me.

Well, medicine is art, not science.

Yet you keep calling it science.

What the fuck is she playing at?

There's peasants here.
Fucking peasants.

Do you not think it exciting,

gathering representatives
from all classes, all regions?

- Something giddying about it.
- No, I don't.

I think it's fucking madness,

because change is never good
for the nobles. Never.

Jesus Christ.

Fucking Simitz.

He's in the courtyard.

What?

The equality of the citizen consists
in that they should all be subject

to the same laws.

Peasants!

Welcome to the future.

I hope you have enjoyed
the readings from the Nakaz.

I am so excited to have you here,
gathered from all over

to bring the peasants' experience
to make this new Russia.

So, let your voice be heard
for the first time,

and give full throttle to it.

Well, a great day beckons.

See you in there.

- Who was that?
- Don't know.

- They're going to kill us, aren't they?
- Not if we do as we're told.

They might do it just for fun.

At least we got to see the palace.

- A big day, Empress.
- Indeed, Archie.

Shall I speak to the peasants?
Tell them God's on your side?

I have done it. And counseled them
to give free and full voice

to their thoughts and desires.

- I wish to hear them pure.
- Interesting strategy.

Might I suggest, speaking of strategy,

today the win
is more important than the "what."

- Understood.
- Something easy.

When this is done, in a few months,

they will return to their regions feeling
that they have a stake in this new Russia,

that they have had a hand in it.
And then, change.

- You have three nipples.
- Royal blood. Thins at the top.

- I have six toes.
- Fantastic.

Your wife's making history today.

- Mad.
- Fucking mad.

- I'm so glad you can see that.
- Of course. Listening to the people?

- Madness.
- It is.

- It's what you did, right?
- Yep.

My legacy... fuck me...
is the man who lost Sweden.

Yours is the man who lost Russia
to the woman who lost Russia.

It's just an opinion. Don't flare your
eyes like you're gonna stab me.

What else did you do?
Our reign was short.

No beards.
But she turned that around.

And I was building a giant church bell,
the biggest in Europe,

but we didn't finish it. And...

Maybe we did so little we won't even be
the tragic footnote we look like.

Hugo, shut up about that.
I don't care. I have other interests.

My wife, my child,
why these horses won't fuck.

Grigor, where the fuck have you been?
I had branches and sent a message.

- I was--
- Hugo stepped into the breach.

To the reliability of kings.

Have they fucked yet?

They have not,
and it's very dispiriting.

I'm to create a European superhorse.
My own breed.

It's weird being back
in Peter the Great's apartment.

It seemed the best space. And it's
customary for the emperor to live in.

I just didn't want to when I was emperor.
But Catherine and I need our own space.

Hard not to feel him here,

booming voice shaking everyone
with laughter and fear,

us cowering in the corner.

Grigor, step back.
Take it from me.

We kings don't like
to talk of our fathers.

It hurts our stomachs
and makes our eyes itch.

So true.

Look at this fucking horse.
He's not even fucking hard.

We have soft music and candlelight.

I thought they'd like
the privacy of indoors, but no luck.

One of you should get him hard.

- How would we do that?
- A firm hand and a friendly eye.

I would love to, but I have small hands
that cramp up with motion, so...

Well, Grigor, you're the man for the job.

Fluff the horse?

- Grigor! Grigor! Grigor!
- Grigor! Grigor!

Grigor! Grigor! Grigor!

- Grigor! Grigor!
- Fucking Simitz is here.

- What?
- At court?

Thinks you're dead. Out in the regions,
some people think you're dead.

I'm not.

Who's Simitz?

Long story,
only known by his lifelong friends.

Here is the day. The promise delivered.
I bow before you.

You smell magnificent, like you have
rolled around in some freshly cut grass

and douched with half a peach.

Thank you, Voltaire.
I have not done any of those things.

Shame.

- Orlo would be proud.
- Thank you.

- I have thought of him much this day.
- He would've loved it.

He believed in you for quite a long time
until he stopped.

I came to say good luck.

Thank you. That is--

Massive, pointless,
self-aggrandizing fucking book club.

You're in your element.

I guess you stopped
trying to make up then.

Indeed, Empress, I have.

On account of
me being right about all of it,

and you being a bitch about all of it.

I think they're almost ready.

What a joy it is to see this.

Nobles, merchants
and peasants all gathered together.

Welcome to the Nakaz.

We are here to do the historic
and, also, fun job of remaking Russia.

Open your hearts, clear your throats.
Let us have at it.

Can the peasants not look us in the eye?

Smolny, sit!

Where to begin on this incredible day?

Let's go boldly.

- Oh, dear.
- Indeed.

Who here has had
someone they love murdered?

Felt that pain?

Or have killed and felt that pain?

And known in their marrow
the damage they wrought to the soul

in the taking of another human life.

Today, we will outlaw murder.

- What the...
- Fuck?

- Huzzah!
- Huzzah.

I am right beside you, as always.

I will take that fucker's eyes

and then spend the next week
winking at them on my desk.

- Huzzah!
- Fantastic.

I'm here for you.
Some context would be great though.

He was going to the conference.

Right.

- What you doing?
- Fuck!

I cannot step on Catherine's thing.

- It'll only interrupt them for a minute.
- True, but maybe not.

Probably not a good idea

to fill the air with blood spray
when she's hoping for enlightened words.

Later. Fucking later.

- You're a good husband.
- I try.

- You're going to kill him, though?
- Of course I am, Arkady.

Fucking weird question.

Empress, with the deepest respect,
what the fuck are you talking about?

The merchants echo Smolny
with a strong,

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Show some fuckin' respect, shopkeeper.

Velementov...

The threat of murder
underpins all contracts.

The law will.
Sanctions, torture, imprisonment.

And then they fucking walk away?

Bottom line,
any cunt can walk away from a deal.

This is fucking bullshit on a plate,

a power grab by the empress
dressed up as--

Of course, interesting
and worth discussing, respectfully.

- Indeed.
- The cost is our point.

We will not know what it costs us
until we are freed from it.

I have a question.

Hypothetically speaking,

say I stabbed someone five times
in the back but he doesn't die,

we're all good with that, right?

Once, Igor put seven mole rats in a bag,

took them out of the field
where they were playing blissfully.

But suddenly, at close quarters,
a trapped distrust grew between them.

And in the morning, six were dead

and one looked bewildered
and sad at what he'd done.

This is us.

Well, that's a weird fucking story.

Killing has become an easy answer

to questions we cannot be bothered
to answer in any other way.

This will force us to search

and will elevate our souls and spirits
when we find those answers.

Don't be fucking animals anymore
is the point. Simple.

That fucking peasant looked at me again.

Smolny, sit the fuck down
or I'll put a hole in you.

Over a fucking peasant?
Really, Velementov.

- Take a good hard look at yourself.
- Is anyone else getting the irony?

Peasants, I would love to hear from you.

The peasants. Clearly,
they have everything to fucking gain.

This is an attack on the nobles' rights,
as we have the right to kill anyone.

- We know what they're going to say.
- Raskolvy, sit down.

I'm sorry, I thought we were here
to be heard.

- I'm a bit confused.
- Peasants, please speak.

We...

- We...
- You may speak.

- Weigh your words well.
- I just said they could speak.

Thank you.

- We like murder.
- Good peasant! Bravo.

Yes. We believe
the current situation is adequate.

Huzzah!

Where nobles can kill you with impunity?

- Yes, as the God Almighty wills it.
- He also says, "Thou shalt not kill."

- You don't believe in God.
- Doesn't mean he's always wrong.

- Can you kill us?
- Me?

- I'm not--
- The state?

Of course we fuckin' can.

It's not on the table. Kill everyone
in a room if we feel like it.

- But we won't.
- Quiet the fuck down!

Well, will the state kill?

- Yes, the state must reserve the right--
- What the... This is ludicrous.

We should live free
of the state deciding our lives.

- Freedom from tyranny.
- I'm not fucking tyranny.

Figure of speech, Empress.

I'm completely with you on this.
I just got a bit swept up.

Will we get a vote?

Vote! Vote! Vote!

Vote! Vote!

Vote! Vote! Vote! Vote!

No, we must back...
be behind our empress!

We must back her as she is heaven-sent

to change you fucking animals
into biped...

Oh, God.

Clearly time for an adjournment.

Call Vinodel to help her.

Bravo. Bravo!

This is so much better than I'd hoped for.

Whenever I get the need to kill
and it is stymied,

I get this fucking headache
that only ice-cold water will stave off.

Your blood won't still
until his does spill.

Fucking good, Arkady.

I need to eat something bloody.

Tell the chef to grill me a pheasant,
raw, as if it had just been shot.

Love to hear the story on this guy.

You should be concentrating
on getting our fucking horse hard, Hugo!

Hey, hey, yelling.

Come on. Hug Hugo.

- I don't want a hug. I don't want a--
- He's not hugging you.

Come on.

You will spill his blood soon,

and will be at peace in your big old heart
and your fizzing veins.

Exactly. You're right, Hugo.

It is a good day.
He is back and I get to kill him.

- Cup half full.
- Of his blood.

Fantastic!

Why are they doing that?

- Great.
- Right, okay, great.

Let's get this horse hard.

Someone get me a glove.

Grigor! Grigor!

Well, that was close
to going horribly wrong.

Toes on the precipice, for certain.

Saved by Georgina, of all people.

No murder?
You did come out strong.

Attacked our greatest
and most loved pastime.

I had to go bold.

- You are you.
- Exactly.

But I have to win the first one.
Can we claw it back?

Or should I say,
"Hey, let's all go beaver hunting"?

- Would let us reset.
- A retreat would look like a loss.

God, I can't believe
the peasants are against it.

- Fuck.
- And almost everyone else.

The peasants
have never crossed the nobles

without ending up at their own funeral.

They'll follow their lead
unless unpicked from their fear.

Perhaps I can help with that.

I want them to speak freely, Archie.
That's why they're here.

And we also want to win.

Yes, and that.
And that's why I now have you two.

Go forth and be persuasive.

What were you doing in there?

Drunk.

- Sorry.
- You're always drunk.

No, it's something else.

I...

I cough a small amount up each day.

Who knows how much is left inside.

Probably a lot.

Fucking hell of an autopsy that'll be.

You should go.

- But don't wear white.
- Did you see Vinodel?

I know what it is,

and I know what it means.

No. No.

I won't allow it.

Well,

take a vote on it.

Actually, I've made a few enemies,

so maybe don't.

You should take time away
from your duties. Rest.

No, no. Bad idea.

All I have is my duties.

Please.

I'd beg on my knees,
but I'd never get up.

Okay, but...

- Vanilla. You smell of--
- Don't make it weird.

And your breasts are like firm,
translucent apples.

Fucker.

- Just less booze, perhaps.
- I'll pull it together.

- I promise.
- And see Vinodel.

Catherine!

Between you and me.

Darling?

I found this in the hall.

Fuckers.

As well as various pages
used to wipe various asses.

"No murder" may not have been
the most savvy move for day one.

No murder?
That was your--

I wanted something bold
that spoke of my ambition,

of our capacity to rewrite ourselves.

You would not be you if you did not.

Thank you for saying it
like it is a compliment.

It is.

Know you always have my list
to fall back on.

Kind.

I will persevere.

I must turn my airy ideas
into steel and will.

I will win. I am me. I will pull this off.

Small thing.
I have to kill someone tonight.

- What?
- Yeah, I vowed to kill him years ago.

He disappeared, coward,
and now he has come back.

I am trying to outlaw murder.

I apologize for the timing,
but the cunt is dead.

So if you aim to come in now
with argument in your heart and mouth

rather than love and support
for your husband's needs, do not.

Have you not been listening?
I am out there risking my rule on an idea.

- A stupid idea.
- A beautiful idea.

- You will not kill him.
- I will.

Wait, no murder?
How are we to settle grievances?

I have a range of options.

Imprisonment, torture,
garnishing of land and wages.

- Many ways.
- They seem dull.

Also, if you were a curious wife,

interested in the emotional life
of one's husband,

you might ask, "Why, dear one?"

I don't care why. There is no "why."

He used to trip me.

- What?
- In front of my father, he would trip me.

They were close friends,
and in this room,

when Grigor and I would come
to see Father,

as we walked towards him,
he would find a way to trip one of us.

- And then--
- Trip you?

Are you fucking kidding?

Well, fuck, behead him immediately.

There is a woman in the salon whose
breath was bad and blew it my way.

I shall kill her too.

She could just take
some peppermint lozenges,

but you should set your boundaries
as you wish.

My head is going to explode.

Then after he'd trip us--

Is this tragic story still going?
Let me pull up a chair.

Father would laugh and Simitz would say,
"I might fuck them."

And he would jump on us, pin us,
and pretend to fuck us

as he banged our heads into the floor
and hard humped.

And we struggled,
Father roared with laughter, and--

What?

And sometimes he would come.

Jesus.

I could not go against him
because Father...

Well, he preferred him, and...

I was 12.

Peter.

You know, when my father died,
my first thought was...

My first thought was, "Daddy's gone.
I don't how to live, how to be."

But my second was,
"Get Simitz, cut his cock and hands off,

"scoop out his eyes, barbecue them,

"kick his face to a pulp,
flay his torso and salt his raw flesh."

The order of that may be wrong.

- My darling.
- I have to kill him, Catherine.

Because you think
it will take your pain away.

It will.

When I killed you, or thought I had,
it did not take my pain away.

But you loved me
more than you hated me.

I will not let you do this.

You're worried I'll embarrass you
at your conference.

A good leader doesn't give a fuck
about the thoughts of his subjects,

foreigners or anyone other than
what is in his own heart.

Your guests have arrived.

Of course, Lev. Just a moment.

Remember, there is only now,

and now is us fizzing drinks
and fucking horses.

I will join you presently.

I have the sorest hand and to no avail.
Very stubborn, very flaccid horse.

Hi. You will not believe--

- Stop.
- What?

Whatever you were going to say.

We are going to pretend
that nothing exists but us.

We're going to the lake.

We're gonna swim naked in the
moonlight, make love in the moonlight

and feast in the moonlight.

Doesn't have to be in that order.
If you're hungry, we can work backwards.

Fucking Hugo. That guy is a poison
in the system, and I know it.

And he knows I know it.

And I have known Peter
and loved Peter my whole--

Fuck Peter. Fuck her.
What about us?

Are our lives lived at their whim?

Is that a rhetorical question?

Is there any possibility
we could leave them behind tonight?

I have to go to be there for Peter.

No, you don't. She doesn't.
Actually, no one does.

- I do.
- I could listen to this all night.

What do you want?

My husband and I are required
at Catherine and Peter's party.

No one buys
your "I love Catherine" show, Georgina.

I mean, her pussy must taste
like bitter fruit, Grigor.

Fair warning,
I am going to punch you in the face.

Marial!
George, shut up.

Grigor, are we going?

I...

Sort of tense.

But we all know who he's choosing,
and it's not either of us.

Just go.

- I love you.
- I hate you.

I'll come as soon as I crush Hugo
in front of Peter.

And depending on how Peter's feeling
about the Simitz thing.

And depending if there's crème brûlée
for dessert or George needs fingering.

I do need fingering, actually.

I love you.

- Bye.
- Grigor.

Simitz.

Kill the cunt.

We will.

Hello. They got you. Great.

Empress, I have wronged your husband,

but my three years lost in the desert
have led to my enlightenment.

I deserve to die,
but hearing you speak today,

I know that a new Russia is born.

I and the eight nobles
I bring from Vladivostok region

are in lockstep with you.

- My husband wants to kill you.
- You mustn't let him.

- How would that look?
- Yes, obviously pretty fucking bad.

Still, I have much sympathy
for his position.

We must find a way to satisfy his rage.

I am at your whim.

Glad you understand that.
All right, come. Let's go.

- You're not taking me to him?
- I am.

- I think that is a very bad idea.
- And I do not.

So return to
the "I'm at your whim" statement.

You want a drink?
You look like you need a drink.

I'm too agitated
until I kill this fucking guy.

Peter, son of Peter the Great,
I beseech your forgiveness.

Bring me a fucking blunt butter knife.
I want this to be slow.

- A fucking knife!
- I hurt you, I know I did.

I'm so sorry.
Can you ever forgive me?

- No.
- Kill me if you must.

I will, and I must.

I'll get my own fucking knife.

- Terrible service.
- Empress.

- Peter.
- Catherine, step aside.

Let it go.
It will not take the pain away.

Well, why don't I kill him,
and then I will tell you if it does.

If it doesn't, you were right.
And if it does, I was right.

A real experiment
in the emotional life of humans.

- Science.
- Nobles of the court!

In a moment, this man's blood will gush,

and my husband will have
blackened his soul, and ours with it.

- Huzzah. Huzzah!
- Shut the fuck up!

And you will all be reassured
that we are all alone,

and living at the whim
of each other's pain and madness.

That any moment could be your last.

That there is no rhyme or reason
to our lives.

This is the Russia I try to leave behind
for all of us.

The floor is yours, husband.

Well, you've really taken the fun
out of this moment.

I'm really sorry.

It just made your father laugh,
and I was always so fucking terrified.

Shut up!

I'm begging you.

For us.

To Catherine the Great. Huzzah.

- Huzzah.
- Huzzah.

And to Peter III. Huzzah!

- Huzzah.
- Huzzah.

Keep the fuck away from me.

- Thank you, thank you, thank you.
- You best fuck off, sir. And quickly.

I need a drink. Grigor, where are you?

Drink. Champagne cocktail,
vodka shooter,

followed by a spritzy crème de menthe
thing I've been toying with.

And where the fuck is Grigor?

Fucking servants.
Never there when you need 'em.

Fuck 'em.

- The spritzy one is cheering.
- Isn't it?

You piqued my interest.

So silent and still, and yet something.

- I like to listen.
- As do I.

You're a very rich, very busy man,

and you elected to come to the Nakaz
for two months.

I'm a patriot.

So strange how one gets a shiver
up the spine when people say that.

I serve Russia.

Well, she is Russia.

She wants to hear our voice, apparently.

Indeed. She wants to hear your voice
hearing her and yelling, "Huzzah!"

Well, she's opened the door
to something else.

We will have a say in Russia, finally.

No murder?

Insane.

Is your arm numb?

It is a little, actually.

I poisoned your tea,

which explains the arm and possibly
the light-headedness, the chest pain.

It's a kind of yellow flower essence.
You smell it, you faint.

You drink it? Well, your kidneys die,
and you shortly after.

No murder.
How are you feeling about it?

- I am but one man.
- Who holds the merchants in his hand.

One bite and in half an hour,
you'll be fine.

A snake?

Nature.

All the questions and all the answers
in a delightfully chaotic form.

There'll be some throwing up shortly.
Try to answer before you black out.

Let me know
when you've made your decision.

Yes. Yes, fine, you have my word.

It is known merchants
are not always true to their word.

- I would hate for this to happen again.
- Me too.

My snake will only bite you once.
You know, Peter the Great's family.

- We don't give second chances.
- Yes, very well understood.

A great relief.

Now, let's cure you.
Thigh or armpit?

Do you want us to undress?

Undress?

To be killed,
so we don't ruin the shirts?

The empress does not wish to kill you.
You are spared.

Relief floods your faces,

and yet you seemed opposed
to the empress's anti-murder bill.

- Why?
- We think she's a witch.

Her nose is small
and her skin too white.

She has a mole on her neck,
a hole where the devil gets in.

Sent to test us against our masters,
to lead us into temptation.

It's a trick.

Say, "We hate murder,"
and then the nobles murder us.

- She is changing Russia.
- She was not picked by God.

So you do remember him, then?

God?

Because the way you've been acting,

you'd think it was the nobles
who you pray to.

She's not freeing us, is she?

They'll still own us,
even if they can't kill us.

At least when you can get murdered,
you know it might end.

An optimistic spin on things.

Allow me to just unpick this present fear

that you have stitched yourselves to.

Eternal damnation.

You familiar with it?

I'll just do a quick recap for you
while we're all here.

If you go against my wishes on this,

if you go against the empress,

whom God has kept in power
since she rose to the occasion,

you will be cast down
to the depths of hell.

White-hot waves of searing hellfire
will crash over your body

and pour into your lungs, so that
you boil alive from the inside out.

Locusts will crawl up
and into every orifice

and wriggle through your mind,
scratching behind your eyes.

There will be no end.

There will be no beginning.

There will be only suffering

as a knife slices at your Achilles' heel,

and a red-hot poker
is rammed up your asshole

on the hour, every hour, until...

Wait, there is no "until,"

because it will never end.

There is no time in hell.

I might be wrong.

Some of you might not get
the poker thing,

but best to be prepared for everything.

Or you can do as he wishes

and side with the empress

as she does God's work
for the good of Russia.

Your choice.

Either way,

he will know,

because he knows...

everything.

- You look handsome.
- Don't.

And me?

- A real vision.
- Thought so.

You can still screw me, you know.
You should still screw me.

- We are married.
- I'm with Marial. I love her.

I still screwed you when I screwed Peter.

Often in front of me.

Exactly, as I wanted you
to feel we were in it together.

- Husband.
- Witch.

Thank you.

Sometimes it is hard to be married.
And then, when we dance...

- It is easy.
- Indeed.

Honestly, don't you feel better

for not having blood on your hands
and soul tonight?

I do have a kind of peace about it,
to be honest.

Because for now...

I'm happy.

Exactly.

Empress, I just wanted to say...

I saw you in trouble
and I just felt like a way out was needed.

But I was giddy anyway
from your boldness.

- You faked the fit?
- I thought I was very convincing.

- You are a good liar, it seems.
- Thank you.

I don't need you to trust me
or be friends with me.

In time, you'll see I'm there for you,
for Russia.

And in my heart, I'll know I made
a difference, and that is all I want.

Right.

- Kings!
- Kings!

For fuck's sake.

- What?
- Look, I need a fucking favor.

Of course.

We have put each other's lemon tops in.

Could you get me some medicine
from Vinodel? It's not for me.

Who for?

It might be fun for you to meet, actually.

Still don't understand.
You didn't kill him?

- You weren't here.
- You really weren't.

You were very not here.

It is a lot to
get your head around, Simitz.

Yes, I know, but I decided
it was good husbanding to not kill him.

Happy wife, happy life. Huzzah.

Why are you in this conversation,
you crownless, blonde eunuch fuckhead?

It's the warmth with which I've been
embraced that I love here.

Simple answer, because kings get kings,
over-rouged peasant woman.

Peter, we will still kill him?

I don't know. You know,
maybe she's right and it doesn't matter.

Blood spilt now
doesn't make the past disappear.

- The fuck it doesn't.
- Agreed. Revenge must be taken.

Can we just focus on the horse? Okay?

I need you to help me get the horse hard
to fuck the other horse

to create a new superhorse that I will
gift my son, and no one is doing it.

I could stare at it.
That usually works.

I'll fix it, Peter. Trust me.

I need all our aphrodisiac.
For the horse.

- And how will you get hard?
- Agnes, it hangs in the fucking balance.

- Have we got a plan or not?
- Yes.

And once again,
how will you get hard for me?

I can do it, I promise.
When I'm relaxed.

Winning Peter will get me hard.
Trust me.

- Thought I smelled something nice.
- It's you. That looks bad.

Bit infected. It'll be fine.
Pugachev will outlive the cockroaches.

I'm Marial.

She'll steal some medicine for your back,
and then I can go on top some nights.

That would be nice. For intimacy.

She stabbed you.
I wondered what had happened to you.

You must be the only one. Drink?

Do you want to come to a conference
up there with me tomorrow?

No, thanks. They'll probably finish me off
if they see me.

- Fuckers.
- Fuckers they are.

He's a fuckin' monster,
and she's as bad.

- You want that drink?
- I have no plans.

- You need to watch Hugo.
- I am.

What's with your
"I love Catherine" game?

No game. I truly believe in
what she's trying to do here.

As a woman,
she will change everything for us.

Fuck. That's good.

I almost can't tell if you're lying
until I remember it's you,

and then I know you are.

- Peter has to kill Simitz.
- I know.

- He won't be able to live with it.
- I know.

We have to help him.

Agreed.
We should fuck, don't you think?

No, I don't.

So cruel.

Makes you even more attractive.

Can't sleep?

- Can't sleep.
- Me neither.

Maybe it's a sign that we should fuck.
Not that we need a sign.

We're so good at it,
people should pay us to watch.

That's funny and true.
But alas, no fucking.

Oh, go on, why not?

She's always there now,
in my bones, in my blood.

Would feel strange. Would not fit.

You can be two things at once,
you know.

You can fuck me and love her,
and I can fuck you and be loyal to her.

- It's not hard.
- Being at war with yourself is hard.

Even now,
I look at you in that dress

and I remember the time
I fucked you so hard

that one of your earrings fell out and...

- There's a slight pain in my chest.
- So give into it and get inside of me.

No one needs to know.

I just don't want to. Not at all.

Fuck me.

Everything I used to own
now belongs to someone else.

Me too.

Though you're still
the girl I climbed a tree for.

You're still the boy I kicked a dog for.

I mean, he's got a skinful
of the finest Swedish schlongful.

Schlongful?

- Just wait. Just wait.
- Yeah?

Come on.

- Grigor, I think Hugo has readied them.
- I have indeed.

Have you got anything
you want to offer up pointlessly?

Fuck off?

A sad way of saying,
"No, I don't have anything."

Saw Simitz last night.

He was smirking when he walked past.

- He what?
- Smirking.

And he made a fucking sound.

He fucking what?

He's doing it!

We need to do this.
We have a plan in play already.

Fuck me, look at that.

I can't keep dunking my head
in water, can I?

Peter. Peter, Peter, they're fucking!

You definitely cannot.

And...

Done!

Amazing. Well done, Hugo.
Grigor, let's go.

- Where are we going?
- It's a Russian thing.

Thanks. Fuck off now, Hugo.

I hate it here.

Fuck!

Hello. What do we think?

See for yourself.

Morning. Enjoy the day.

So now they're scared of you
instead of the nobles?

More God's wrath.

Being clubbed to death by nobles is a
light day compared to eternal damnation.

So they will not be speaking freely,
as you fucking terrified them.

The merchants are yours.

- What did you do?
- Details, details.

Suffice to say,
a new idea is in their blood.

Right. I'll leave that alone.

But I fear no one believes anything.

They are certainly against murder.

- That I saw in his eyes.
- We just played them.

Are you saying,
"Well done, and thank you very much"?

- How I heard it.
- Funny. Okay.

The nobles are the unknown.
They make up two-thirds.

- What do you think?
- I don't think.

I prefer to know,
and I know you don't know.

So it is a risk
to call the vote to a head.

Beaver hunting?

Also, what if I win,

and we walk out of here
and find my husband beheading Simitz?

- Is that a win or a mockery?
- You think he will?

I don't. But it is all a risk.

So?

I love it when you're inscrutable.
Makes things very dramatic.

What a rousing discussion
we had yesterday.

Huzzah.

But it's time to move on
to the first issue I wish to proclaim on.

No murder, wasn't it?

Much to say on that.

We will now move on.
That was a mere warm-up discussion.

We will discuss it properly later,
as I analyze the thoughts raised. Huzzah.

Huzzah!

Now, the first proclamation
of the Nakaz to be voted on,

an exciting moment for all of us...

I move that every village in Russia,

no matter how big or small, rich or poor,

will have their own monkey.

- Yes!
- Adorable.

Let us vote.

- Well, that should do.
- You thinking throat or heart?

I'd always imagined eye
whenever I thought about it.

Eye. Nice.
You see the startle close-up.

Exactly.

But...

- What if I didn't kill him?
- It would make no sense.

What if we just tied him to a tree,
tortured him,

let the animals fucking ravage him,

and then come back each afternoon
for a month and just hurt him, then left.

- Seems time-consuming.
- I suppose.

She'll never know. We'll see to that.
All marriages have secrets.

- Yours?
- No.

Actually, no.
Wish we did sometimes.

Hello.

I disappear,

your wife will know you did it.

Now you don't have to lie.

You are a friend...

but...

You weren't the only ones
he fucked with back then.

- It's nice, the quiet after, isn't it?
- It's the best part.

- Sense of fucking peace is--
- Sublime.

- Congratulations.
- Marial, can you just not?

Monkeys eat rats like bananas,

so it is the step forward we dreamed of
when we risked our lives

and planned the coup
against your husband.

Please go.

I have something to say.

Sorry, would you rather I not tell the
truth the moment I have it to hand?

Or are we not free to speak our minds
in your court?

Speak it if you are confident
it is a mind worth revealing.

Simitz wasn't there today.

You notice that?

You should go home.
It's been a big day.

No doubt your devoted husband
is running you a bath.

Bloodbath. It would be wittier
if I wasn't always ahead of you.

- What a day.
- Yes.

You won.

I suppose.

Well, every town has a monkey.
That is a win.

You killed him.

Grigor shot him.

And you?

You need to sleep.

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