All language subtitles for The Great S03E10 Once Upon A Time 1080p HMAX WEB-DL DD5 1 H 264-playWEB (1)_track3_[eng]

Peter! Peter! Peter! Peter!

Did you see that out there?

- We need to negotiate a surrender.
- We do.

You to me.

Because that's what I'm seeing.

I mean, think about it.

You, the church, me,
fucking whipping 'em up.

You join me, bring the church

and it is ours.

I...

Are you listening or just watching
my lips, wondering how they taste?

You wouldn't be good for me.

I would.

Very good.

I think I'd lose myself.

You really fucking would.

Fuck God.
It's me you need.

No.

No! Fucking no!

Then you'll die with the rest of them, Patriarch.

Fucker!

These fucking people.

Hello. I have a carriage waiting.

- No, I'd rather you shoot me.
- I doubt that.

That seems just pugnacious talk

to preserve one's dignity
in the face of defeat.

That sounds like you're not allowed
to shoot me.

Annoying.

Good day, sir.

You again.

Shouldn't you be in school?

Outrageous.

Hello.

Wife.

You're a fucking liar.

Look-alike is a lie,
so occupational hazard.

The things you said to the people.

You were there?

Must have been hard on you.

Can I have some figs and ricotta?

No.

You could have a deal
that saves your life instead.

Is it come home and we live happily ever
after like a partridge in a pear tree?

Have a fuck,
pretend it was a mere lovers' tiff?

Stop doing that, or they will come in
and cut your head from your body.

- Toosh!
- Don't do that!

You lied about me. About him.
Raised a land of hate.

I didn't have to do much. They just don't
fucking like you, to be honest.

Even in your own court
people don't love you.

You are going back to Moscow
with my men,

and you will reveal yourself
and surrender

as Pugachev,
the bad-breathed Cossack.

That's harsh. I mean,
they brought me tuna. What could I do?

You will then be caged and taken
from village to village to tell your story

and make them embarrassed
they followed you.

My husband will have
his name back.

Or I could choose to die.
That would fuck you up.

I don't think you'd choose that.

That's the difference
between you and me.

I'm gonna die by the knife sometime.
That's how it is for people like me.

So why not die
at the height of my infamy,

having fucked up the empress

and trashed the good name
of a fucking arsehole?

Because you both would've killed me
and thrown my body to the pigs

while you kissed
and made up that night.

I was sorry about that.

The thing is, kill me or don't,
they'll still come for you.

They do love me.

The walls fucking shook
with my hold on them.

You felt their love for me.

Maybe running this country's
my destiny.

He really planned
all these breakfasts in advance?

Crazy.

- So annoyed they didn't let me kill him.
- Shut up, Maxim!

Poor fucking guy.
He just wanted a chance at a new life.

Who wouldn't want
a chance at a new life?

What if he talks, Marial?
About you.

Then you'll have a different life.

Then he talks.
I'm not going to be scared anymore.

He's a troublesome, mouthy peasant
who someone else now gets to kill.

Could you finish my shoes?
I'm upset and I don't trust the staff.

- Hugo's still there.
- Fucker.

Gonna follow me to Grigor.

Me! Can we chat?

Out, needy dormouse.

- Actually, go get my gun, Petra.
- Just where I was going.

Look, been waiting out there
all night.

A few thoughts.

You're a stunning, beautiful,
scheming liar

who hasn't been fucked in a while,

and so has a little edge
that is even more attractive.

I wanna work with you.

I want to watch blood
spurt from your eye.

The way you say it, so do I.

Fuck.

Can we get some tea, Petra?

This is what I've seen,
because I have been watching.

You're an opportunist.

You hate her
and try to cause her problems.

But don't you want more?

All of it, I say.

And you can help me, can you?

There are only two people in this country
with king experience,

and you're looking at one of them.

So do you wanna
bring her down or not?

Of course I don't.
I love her, treasonous Swedish prick.

Great. So you do.

Pugachev...

Her choices being,
tell everyone she killed Peter,

or try and explain
who the fuck Pugachev was,

or kill him, creating a martyr
and a vacuum at the top of an uprising.

All bad.

We add in the general sense that
she's in some kind of suicidal malaise,

and we have a chance.

Grigor has Paul.

And I think you know where he is
and don't want me following you there.

You're really taking a big risk here,
saying this.

I know, but it's that kind of day,
where lives change.

You know it's mine and Agnes'
wedding anniversary today?

- Who cares?
- 36 years.

- What? You only look--
- 37? I am 37.

Royal marriage.
We married at one.

- I can see you as a queen.
- What are you saying?

Get Paul, ordain Paul,
and you marry Paul.

I know! It's amazing!

There is an uprising sitting in Moscow,

and in a while they will realize they
do not have a leader, but they need one.

We can take the whole country...

Fuck.

I've... I've been a king.
We'd love it.

Oh, God. Fuck.
You sedated the tea.

Of course I did, genius.

Fuck. Fuck.

Good night,
translucent Swedish idiot.

Great idea though.

The important thing, Maxim,

is to ask yourself
what will bring peace to your heart.

Would you suggest prayer?
Or I do enjoy tennis. Maybe that.

Well, tennis never hurt.

I just become enraged
when I don't get what I want.

You have to float out of your body,
float above yourself,

and add in the context
of a world beyond yourself.

However, there are moments
in a man's life he knows when to pray,

when to play tennis,

and when to act to preserve one's life.

Good advice.

What is it with you, kid?

Call me Maxim.

- Morning.
- I want a job.

A job? Doing what?
You're not a political person.

Oh, really? I gave you the idea
for the coup which got you on the throne.

Seems political.
What about chief adviser?

Seems vague
and probably doesn't involve reading?

Do you remember,

did I have a sense of destiny
before or after you had the coup idea?

Because I feel like maybe I made it up
after to kind of make me believe in it.

You arrived delusional
about almost everything.

But when did I say it?

I suggested, "Kill him," and you said,
"I knew I had a destiny here.

I thought it was love.
Maybe it's Russia itself."

I said "maybe"?

Who the fuck knows? Let's focus
on my job. I need something.

Cannot just be married to an
11-year-old and arrange his shoes.

After last night I've never felt more--

- Hated?
- And German.

A foreigner.

So many lies.

We're not gonna talk about my job,
are we?

At least I will reclaim Peter for Paul.

I need Pugachev to make this deal.

- Pugachev's a massive liar, by the way.
- I just said that.

Buongiorno

- Who's that?
- A castrati. Famously great fuck.

Seedless, too.

Forget all that. You know what?
This is a great day.

You have never led, as you,

without Peter on your back,
in your head or up your bum.

- Marial.
- The point is, the coup is finally done.

Pretend for me.

- It's day one.
- Marial.

Just do it!

For what would it have been like without
him, if he had been dead that first day?

Other than I would've
missed the great love of my life?

Who perverted your rule? Yes.
Other than that.

Morning, Empress.
What a day!

Boy, are the people excited!

You look excited too.
What joy you will bring.

Day one! Here we go!

As your chief adviser
and founding member of the coup,

I, for one,
am pretty upbeat about the day.

Exactly. Such happiness.

How will you lead? Go forth.
Let us discover.

I will lead with a lightness of heart
and joy for the task,

bringing naivete and delusion
to all that I do.

Your seat, Empress.

Well, gosh, I'm overwhelmed.
I'm sure it will go, oh, so well though.

- Yours?
- Yes, Empress.

May I? I am Nikolai Shostakich,
the royal astronomer.

I have a royal astronomer?

You hired me in the big science hire
at the start of your reign, remember?

Seems so long ago. Yes.

We have never met.

I will talk fast and to the point,
in case I am to be ejected by guards,

as sometimes happens to me for
a variety of reasons not worth going into.

There is a comet coming.

A comet is a disturbance,

a hole that tears in the sky,
leaving a stream of light behind it.

Beyond the moon,
a form of dust and ice compact together

to make a... a ball!

No, not a ball. A fist!

A fist of power and light
that shoots through the solar system

and passes us by.

Every fucking 75 years,
this comet, the same one,

swings round and races through the sky
again on a loop.

And it's the only one, the only one,
we can see without a telescope,

and it passes by the Earth just enough
so we can see it.

And in a few days, it passes over,
wait for it...

Russia!

- Amazing.
- Yeah, and an opportunity.

I suddenly thought...

Thought last night...
Should've thought earlier.

"I could kick you, Nikolai!"

- Loving this day.
- Fascinating.

But I digress.

The people have always viewed the
heavens as just that, God's domain.

The unknowable. A mystery. And
the church have used that fear and awe.

But if we tell the people in advance,
send charts and telescopes,

and show that by way of science and
reason the heavens are knowable,

man and woman can know them,
track them, and explain them!

And also maybe send up a balloon with
cannons and just blow it out of the sky!

Or at least change its orbit.

No, forget the last part,
as it's possibly not true and unfeasible,

and I shouldn't have said it.
I even said to myself walking here,

"Don't say
the balloon cannon thing, Nikolai."

- But couldn't help yourself?
- Exactly.

So, can we do this? Can we--

What?

Clear breach of security,
leading to a clear breach in his skull.

No!

Fuck!

- You!
- Shit.

- A duel, sir.
- What is going on?

- Private matter.
- Dueling's illegal, is that right?

Yes, it is.

- And who fucking shot Pugachev?
- We're dueling!

Greatest respect, Empress, even though
the statement seemed not to contain any.

- Who shot him, I said.
- Maxim has claimed credit.

- What?
- I will beat him like a drum that bleeds.

- Empress, we are agreed, the comet?
- There's a comet coming?

- I should probably go.
- What's the "probably" part?

See you on the field.

Who shot him? What happened?

- I had a plan.
- Maxim. And now we need a new plan.

I just heard.

Shit! What do we do now?

To think I once rode him,

and he uttered desperately foul oaths
in my ear as I came.

From memory,
it was something like,

"I'll rip open your rib cage
with my bare hands

"and fuck you in your windpipe as I give
your foie gras liver a hand job."

I mean, out of context, bizarre,
and yet, in the moment...

I mean,
I came like a sudden blizzard.

But enough reminiscing.

Let's focus on what now.
We're in a very dangerous place.

Catherine?

So, I guess the surrender tour
with Pugachev is done with.

He's dead.
It's over now, isn't it?

No! Quite the opposite.

You've thousands massed
and a vacuum at the top.

One group massed behind one man,
easy to fight.

They splinter into disparate,
random groups,

you're fighting chaos,
or someone else rises.

- That's very pessimistic, Petrov.
- And yet accurate.

We need to decide what to do
before they do.

Even word of his death
will light a wick on something.

They don't know he's dead at this point.
That gives us the upper hand.

My opinion, we need to mass troops,
bring the body--

Interesting.
Empress, you need to own his death.

He being Peter the Third. You need
to come out and say you killed Peter.

Ideally with the body, and then probably
say something along the lines of,

"Peter is vanquished by my own hand."
And then just let it rain cannonballs.

And then you've taken it out,
you've also ended Peter the Great's line,

and now you have the country.

Ended Peter the Great's line?
How dare you, Archie! There is Paul!

Is there?
Hasn't been at the buffet lately.

We're not doing any of that!

Then what are we doing? Because
we fucking need to do something.

Fuck! Fuck! This place!

Catherine!

I call that inconclusive.

I call it a petulant response
to a massive challenge

that brings into question
her competency.

And I call that treason.

Would you call it inaccurate?

No, didn't think so.

We need to hold our nerve
and hold together!

- Yeah!
- He will be back.

And not only that,
I can tell you this.

We will retake the palace and restore
Peter the Third as the head of Russia!

Huzzah!

You're waiting for him?

Fucking hell, Tatyana.

He told me he wanted to rip the dress
from my body.

But we left in a hurry,
so I don't have many dresses.

I thought this was easier.

Well, he hasn't come back,
so stand down and put some clothes on.

I don't know where he is, but that hall
is full of maniacs who are ready to go.

- Where is he?
- With someone else, probably.

Hurtful.

You lying here naked for another man,
however, is fine.

We always said we'd let each other
evolve as we needed to as humans.

Or would you like our marriage to
literally choke off our personal growth?

Seems a difficult either-or.

You need to keep those madmen out
there under control until he gets back.

They do keep looking at me like,
"You're his best friend. You should know."

People are riled up.

- You just gonna lay here?
- He's got to come back at some point.

- Want anything?
- I could use an apple.

Hi. Sorry. Inappropriate entry
to your private quarters.

But we have some time issues.
The comet, may I do it?

A brilliant idea and a good distraction
for the country from your troubles.

Also, sorry about the duel. I know
it's illegal, but I'm kind of in it.

My power over my own court
is clearly waning.

You slept with Petrov's fiancé?

I have this thing that happens
to me and women when I talk to them,

and we end up fucking.

I feel exactly the same way about it.

It is laughable,
not how I see myself, and yet--

You are an accidental womanizer.

That's a good way of putting it.

What's it like to run Russia?

I mean, that's crazy.
I run an office with three people,

and it is a wrangling of drunk,
insane cats

who spit poison
and speak in whiny hieroglyphic codes.

Not that we're not doing a great job.
We are, so don't cut our funding.

But it's just complicated.

These humans. "I don't get paid enough!"
"There are no biscuits!"

"Why's Anatole got the window with sun?"
Russia must be...

I digress.
Bad habit, along with overreach.

But an office with 80 million humans.

Insane.
Your head must explode.

My head, my heart, everything has.

How do you do it?

I'll tell you a secret.

I don't know.

I try to be mean, be nice, be friends,
be a tyrant. Still, everyone's at me.

Probably why I spend all my time
looking at the sky.

- It's happening, as you said.
- What?

Fuck me.

- What?
- You heard.

- I did. I just--
- Want to hear it again?

I'd love to hear it again.

Walk over here, pin me to the wall,
lift up my skirt and fuck me.

On my way.

Huzzah!

Stop doing that!

Walking in on me! On us!

On Peter and me
to see if we would make a baby!

You can go, young man.

The empress,
assuming no lemon top,

needs a douche bath of nettle
and snake venom immediately.

I walk in unannounced as it is the best
way to see where people are,

to catch them as they are.

Like seeing a squirrel startled suddenly
as it sucks on a nut.

And whilst it is, on a personal level,
thrilling to see you back fucking,

on a "we're mired in a national crisis,"
I do begin to question your priorities.

Maybe start fucking people after
you save the country from the uprising.

I had saved it!

And solved it.
Peter's name, everything.

- And things changed.
- And I will work out what to do alone!

- When?
- Stop talking to me.

When I know what to do,
that's when!

Not good enough.
Enough tears and weakness.

No, not enough,
because if you wring me wet,

nothing will come out
but tears and weakness.

It is just grief.

- Can you just go?
- No, I can't.

- Elizabeth!
- Catherine.

- Guards!
- Guards!

- Remove her!
- Dimitri and Alexei...

You touch me now,
you will never touch me again.

- Oh, my God.
- You may go. But later...

I have no grip on anyone.

My own head of the army is doing
an illegal duel, oblivious to my wishes.

They are burning effigies
all over the country.

My name inspires hate,
not change.

And I am rotten with grief
throughout my being.

And I am becoming sure
that I have told myself, and others,

a delusional story
that has brought Russia to its knees.

I know it feels like you are broken.

I am broken.

Not all the way through.

- You just fucked a boy against the wall.
- That was strange.

Suddenly, I just thought,
"I want to fuck him." Nothing else.

I was just present and wanted fucking.

- Oh, no. Now I feel terrible.
- Like you took a step away from Peter?

Yes, and I don't want to.

- You need to.
- And if I can't?

I know you're in pain
and clouds of confusion fill your head,

but you now need to stand up.

Or?

You know the "or."

Someone else will.

You?

Yes. Me.

Perhaps it is, as you said,
my destiny and not yours.

Perhaps you weren't it.
I was wrong.

I am it, and you were merely
a pretty stepping-stone

for me to wake up and see that.

Jesus.

Because the world burns a person down
many times,

and you shake off the ashes,
and you walk into the next fire knowing

that the fire never gets
to the core of you.

That is me,
and that is who is needed now.

Tomorrow, if I sit down in that seat,
I don't get up.

For anyone.

I love you.

And I you.

Where is she?

Weren't you going to follow her
to Grigor?

I might've made a small misjudgment.

Or not.
We'll see how it plays out.

I'm hoping the idea sets in her head
and she sees she needs us.

- You decided something without me?
- I added Georgina to the plan.

A disappointing and, I suspect,
idiotic betrayal.

Let's assume George gets the baby
and realizes we're the next step.

Well, let's have the next step
after the next step's ready.

I knew you'd come here.

The three of us always came here.
No one can find you.

Where's Paul?

- Grigor!
- Safest place. No one looks up.

Get him down.

Birds have been a hassle.

- And there was a bear.
- A bear?

"Furry."
He said "furry" after we shot the bear.

What a kid.

Hey.

- Squirrel coats. Matching.
- Are you mad?

You clearly are.

It's fine. I'm here to look after you
as always, my darling.

Let's take him back.

He is not safe in court.
They're coming for him and all of us.

He's not safe here either
in a fucking box in a tree, Grigor.

We can do this together.
We always wanted a child.

No, we didn't.
We said it would distract us from Peter.

It would re-energize our marriage.

- I love Marial.
- You don't!

And it's very annoying
that you keep saying it!

I do. I... She hates Peter,
so it's hard and confusing,

because I feel pain at her absence
in my rib cage area.

My head cries much at the loss of her.

And then Peter...

I can't even feel anything.

But Paul is all.
That's my new motto.

We say it all the time, don't we, Paul?
Paul is all.

I agree. Paul is all.

He should be emperor,
and we can make it so.

- What?
- I'm good at this.

- At what? I'm not following.
- Politics.

I think by pretending to change,
I actually did.

If this goes the way it's clearly going,
we might need a new leader behind Paul.

And that's you?

- What the fuck?
- You?

Why not me?

- You're not them.
- They're not them.

No one's fucking "them"
until they decide they're fucking "them."

This country can be changed
for the better.

For Peter.

For our dearest friend,
to keep his line alive.

I'm not helping you kill her.
He loved her.

He loved us, too. For longer.

Do it for him.

Hey. She's fine, Paul.

See? Look at her up-and-down chest.
That's called breathing.

But always be listening
for footsteps behind you in the forest.

I remember these.

We did all of them, didn't we?

That one.

The wheelbarrow with fruit!

- I loved it.
- You handsome savage.

You delectable sexual hooligan.

You look unsure.
You know I can't stand that.

- I'm pondering.
- Not you. You're all instinct.

Kill her! Impale her on a large pole
and ride her round Moscow.

Take this fucking place,
Paul on your knee.

I seem to recall

that you looked into my dying
but beautiful-as-the-deep-blue-sea eyes

and promised to protect my line.

- Things change. I have evolved.
- Our love is eternal.

You're dead.
Everything's eternal for you.

- I love her.
- You love me more.

Now you're needling me!
I remember it.

Then torrid sex ensues.

Just remove her before you're trampled
into black-and-blue paste

by rampaging ex-Cossacks,
cross-eyed with liquor, buzzing with rage,

and with a need to feel blood spray
in their eyes to make them happy.

Jesus.

I know. Powerful word pictures
that can transform moments.

One of my many gifts,
you'll recall.

I do.

And having no empathy for anyone.
Another gift.

- Like you were with Peter.
- Who drowns on their fucking horse?

That kid.

You heartless monster.

You sassy enchantress.

I'm not doing that. I'm calling you
a fucking heartless monster.

You know you have to take the throne.
Or you'll fucking die and lose everything.

Did you just shush Peter the Great?

You're not choosing her.

Maybe I'm choosing something else.

What I want instead of what you want.

You contrary, argumentative strumpet.

You deaf, blind oaf.

God, I could tear all your clothes off
with my teeth.

Except you can't.

You can just...

go.

This duel.
I probably shouldn't do it.

Undermines the empress
at this delicate point.

She seems like a drunk
on the end of a jetty.

As humans sometimes are when
they have their hearts crushed by fate.

- I'll call it off.
- No.

Do it.

She must stand up and lead.

Or not, if she can't.

It's a bit like when I was a boy.

Had all these apples, and I wouldn't give
'em away or eat them or make cider.

For the life of me, I couldn't decide,

and then they just rotted,
and I looked like the fucking idiot I was.

I think it's more like a young woman
lost at sea,

throwing up into the ocean
due to prevailing winds and insect bites,

hoping some friendly sharks
will guide her home.

She must find her compass,
but she's been blinded by a raven.

And if she eventually falls in,

the sharks will just have to...

Be sharks?

Yes.

And the army and I
will need to be marching

in figure eights and hexagons as one.

Right.

Got it.

Hi. Sorry, but it's a bit urgent.

- Hugo, what are you--
- You know what I smell out there?

I smell what I smelt in Sweden.

Implosion.

And I do feel bad
about Peter and stealing the army.

And as you're about to be gargling
on your own blood,

I thought I'd give you some advice.

You need to run.

- I can't run.
- That's what I thought.

Out of some misguided
sense of obligation. Destiny.

"It's my favorite desk.
I don't wanna leave it."

But Paris, Rome.

You tell me ex-kings and queens
aren't gonna be feted there.

And the food and the art.

I see a new life.

We'll have a carriage ready at 9:00
in the courtyard.

Get Paul, or tell me where he is
and I'll get him,

we get in, and we go.

I'll leave that with you.

Make the right decision,
or don't and die.

Die, bitch!

Grigor. What are you doing?

You're a sight.
A sight I need in my eyes.

What do you want? Other than clearly,
and also logically, my body.

Marry me.

You hated me, as I hate Peter.

- Know that I always will.
- I do know. But I need you.

In the forest, so quiet,

I felt this empty space in me,

the sounds of the forest
reverberating through it...

bears and birds and bees.

And you are what I need in that space.

- You're the piece I miss.
- Right.

- Really?
- I want a new life. You and me.

- I want a new life too.
- Great!

We go to my estate,
we hole up there,

we put in defenses,
and we just be together.

- You, me and Paul.
- What do you mean Paul?

I have to bring him up for Peter.
I realize that now.

We can do it together.

Maybe have our own kids.
Be good for him to have a brother.

I'm not bringing up his fucking son.
Are you mad?

I know you hate him,
but it's actually good.

Paul will learn
the complexity of human life.

And we will raise him
to take back his throne.

Or not. Peter didn't want that,
so maybe we'll let that play out.

Don't have to decide now.
Marial, get dressed. We should go.

I could do with a bath actually.

My teeth are fucking blueberry fuzz
as well.

Fuck. You sad man.

You beautiful, sad man.

But why is Grigor in my bath?
I thought this sick liaison was done.

- Hi, Maxim. Just resting a minute.
- You're rending my garments!

You fucking killed Pugachev!

Now all hell has broken loose,
you foppy little monster.

Archie and I have it in hand. Relax.

We will be safe as others die.
We have the touch.

No.

No you and Archie.

No.

Enough!

In terms of the fact
that you were about to marry her,

you could look at it
as you dodged a bullet.

You could look at trying to dodge a bullet
but failing in about one minute.

She wasn't right for you.

Disloyal, for a start,
and was definitely the aggressor.

- We were friends.
- Yeah, and I felt terrible.

Every thrust was like a dagger
in my own heart.

- Jesus Christ! Really?
- I just want you to know how bad I felt.

At one point,
she took me in her mouth,

and I was staring at your portrait
on the other side of the room.

- You know the one with the red setter?
- I love that picture.

Yeah. And I was like, "This is really bad.
He shouldn't be marrying her."

Can we hurry this along
before I shoot him at point-blank range?

- All right, let's go!
- Huzzah!

- Wonderful. I'm not too late.
- Empress, this is between us.

Also made illegal by me.

But these are Russian rules, and you
seem to want to live this way, yes?

Yeah!

In fact,
I would like to second for Nikolai.

- You what?
- That's ridiculous.

- And yet within the rules?
- It is.

Great.
Nikolai, go stand over there.

I'd like to argue with you, but--

I'm the empress, and you're also
a coward who does not want to die?

Well expressed.

- Begin. Explain to me how--
- I can't shoot you.

Not my problem. I can shoot you.

- Great.
- And begin.

Ten paces,
turn and then shoot.

One. Two. Three.

You all live
by Catherine the Great's rules.

Understand that or leave court.

Petrov, State Room, in an hour.
We need to plan.

I'll be there!

That's my nose. Yes.

- Give him here.
- You need to go home, Grigor.

He needs me.

No, he doesn't.

You need him.

But she needs him more.

You take Paul from me, then I will one
day come and find you and kill you

in a very weird way.

Go home, Grigor.

- I don't really have one.
- I don't really care.

You will be emperor,
as your grandfather intended.

And I will live by your side,

a benevolent shadow
and guide through this court.

He's all right, Paul.

See his chest moving up and down?

Let's go find Uncle Archie.

Look who I found.

How marvelous.

- Tatyana?
- Yes?

Oh, it's you.
Can you get me another apple?

And is it more alluring if I'm on my front
so he can just take me from behind?

Paul's coming with George.
And I'd say Grigor as well.

- And Pugachev?
- No sign. But I'm thinking, so what?

We have the rest of us working
in Peter's name, and Paul.

I have them eating out
of my fucking hands.

We just pretend he's sending me orders.
They don't know.

Look at you.
You're fizzing.

And you got me an apple.
Come here.

I was looking for you.

To tell me what?
How horrible he was again?

I know what he did to me,

that in some ways he was a terrible
person, terrible leader, all of it.

How he thwarted me.
How I contorted myself to fit with him.

But I loved him,
and the two are carried here in my heart.

Understand that.

I do. You understand this though.

I have something to offer.

I have to have my hands
on something that matters.

And I am someone you need.

What's that?

Letters between Archie and Pugachev.

He lit this fire,
and he got Maxim to kill him.

I've been given a dark view
of humanity.

You know why?

Because bad shit happens
to me all the time,

and people are pricks,
and that's why you need me!

Archie.

Let's go.

And so by the powers
vested in me by our Lord God,

I channel his powers into this child
to do God's work

as he one day becomes
Russia's leader.

This is very long. Hurry through this,
Archie. Let's get to the wedding.

- God has touched and--
- Good doggie!

- In the middle of it. Sorry we're late.
- Fuck. Ignore them.

And yet let's all accept
we're part of this.

- Fine.
- Fine!

God has touched and chosen you,

Paul Petrovich
Illyich Vasilyev Alekseyvich Romanov.

- Also very long.
- Can you just--

- Just say amen!
- You say amen, I put a hole in you!

- Oh, shit.
- Hugo, don't fucking move!

You're about to die.
Put him down, Archie.

He won't shoot you. Say it.

I don't like the look in his eye,
to be honest.

Good analysis.
Put the baby down and walk away.

Fucker!

You are the leader.
The one God has chosen.

- Amen.
- Amen! Yes!

Archie!

The empress has requested
the patriarch's presence immediately.

- Hey.
- Must dash.

Well, half done.
It's all for Peter and Paul, darling.

We're done, you and I.

Well, full disclosure, I am actually
interested in someone else long-term,

so agreed.

Feels strangely right.

You sat.

I did.

Empress,
I would like to apologize.

My blood's loyalty to you
overheats at times,

and I act for your best interests
out of my love for you.

And also, I'm a killer.
That's Maxim.

Sit, Maxim.

Empress.

Archie. Hello.

I'd like to thank you for Pugachev.

I'm not sure I--

Archie, don't insult me with faux denials

and the teary clutching of rosary beads
and bleatings of innocence.

I was in a haze of grief
that didn't allow me to see it,

but you were always the one
coming to me with a solution.

I recently shot a man in the head
instead of myself,

and it seems to have cleared
something for me.

I see with a blazing clarity.

Right.

So?

I asked you to school me
in savvy political dealings, did I not?

You did.

It has been a good lesson,
and I'm grateful.

All your own work,
or others involved?

The gratitude belongs all to me.

Out of love for you. I never meant it
to get out of hand like this,

but let's clean the rest
and show Russia your immense power.

Let's.

The church will come out
across the country

and say they have asked God for a sign

that Catherine the Great
is Russia's destiny.

You will tell them the day and the time
to look into the sky to see it.

- The comet?
- Exactly.

- Love it!
- They need a story.

This will be one piece of it. Marial
has the proclamation for you to issue.

- What happened to you?
- The empress shot me.

- Huzzah.
- Maxim, I need a general.

- I'm sorry, what?
- I'm ready.

Oh, come on. He's four.

I want you to get the credit
for the killing of Pugachev.

So you will go on a speaking tour

and tell the tale
of the Cossack Pugachev's death.

After that, there is a military academy
in Vladivostok.

You will go there, learn the craft,
and return to me.

Vladivostok?

Also where the finest tailors
in Russia reside.

- Interesting. But, Marial--
- For the good of Russia, I have agreed.

- I will visit often.
- Yearly seems enough.

And, Velementov, you will go south to tell
the tale of the death through the ice.

Petrov, you will go to Moscow

and claim the death
of Peter the Third, and unleash--

Please say a wave of cannonballs.

- Cannonballs.
- Brilliant.

Of course he gets fucking cannonballs.

Marial, you will prepare a statement

that Peter the Third
is dead by hemorrhoids,

also a different one saying smallpox,

also a different one saying he was killed
while fighting the uprising.

Also that I am
Peter the Great's daughter.

Love my new job.

Everyone will get a story they want.

And I will get whichever I need
whenever I need it.

Archie, one more thing.
Guards!

Take him, tear his cassock from
his body, rip his beard from his face,

and bury him alive.

And then, in a semicircle,

piss on the grave.

- What?
- Now!

I thought you understood!

Wait!

The church has half a million serfs
it owns.

You're going to sign this and free them.

The fuck I will.

Also, 10 million acres, 25 acres per serf,
which they will be awarded.

The country can watch
a grand experiment

without the nobles
wanting to bathe in my blood.

I hope to shame them
into freeing the serfs.

Sign it or die.

Right.

- Fine.
- Thanks.

Fucking let go of me!

You thought
they were going to release you? Sweet.

Take him now.

- Catherine.
- You fucking played me!

Consider me schooled.

- Cut his head off and bring it to me.
- Head off? Will do.

That was all very thrilling.

Your seat.

I thought you weren't getting up.

It was an ultimatum.

Had to sound dramatic
or it's not a good ultimatum.

You may go.

Husband.

It's a good day to kill an empress.

Let it rip.

Oh, fuck.

Fucker!

Destiny didn't do it. I did it.

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