All language subtitles for The Great - 03x06 - Ice.ETHEL.English.C.updated.Addic7ed.com

- Synced and corrected by chamallow -
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Hmm. I think now.

Madness. It's barely charred.

A thin ribbon of raw in the
center creates an unctuous,

silky mouthfeel within the cooked meat.

Ugh, you also didn't stuff
it with enough fennel.

I did.

You'll see, and bow down
to my superior instincts,

as you will when we take Sweden.

It's my country. I know how to take it.

My troops. I know how to use them.

You're an advisor in this, understood?

- Okay, fine.
- Mm.

God.

Just wait till we're in Stockholm.

What a fucking time we'll have, huh?

- Huzzah!
- Huzzah!

- Oj!
- Oj.

- Oj!
- Ojjjj!

- Ojah!
- Oj! Oj! Oj! Oj! Oj! Oj! Oj!

Ojah! Ojah!

Oj! Oj...

Fucking hell.

Idiots.

Ojah! Ojah!

Ah! How did it go at the fort?

Three battalions on the march.

We rendezvous with them
down the road a few miles.

It's happening. It's
really fucking happening.

- Will there be a lot of this?
- Probably.

Okay, let's ride.

Troops on the move, battle in the air.

Never a better feeling.

- Ah!
- Let's fuck them up!

Bring the fish.

Wh-What are we waiting for?

- Them.
- How do we know they'll be here?

- Maps.
- Right.

They have to cross on
the other side of the lake

to meet the troops from Fort
Bilyostock on the road to Stockholm.

Right.

When we get them back,

no one can ever know
what happened, understood?

I just want him back.

This is Hugo's fault.
You will kill him, right?

- I...
- Okay, don't answer.

But if I kill him now, accidentally,

say my gun goes off on
the ride back, we all good?

- Just watch for them.
- Sure.

And this has nothing
to do with Pugachev?

They're not moving against me?

No.

It's just fucking Hugo in his ear,
and Peter the Great in his head.

Men need something. It is our curse.

Everyone needs something.
It is not always a curse.

Why are you just standing there?

Awe.

Inappropriate and yet logical response.

Where's Grigor?

- I haven't seen him.
- Nor have I.

He didn't sleep here.

Inside Marial somewhere, I suppose.

Right.

Thanks for saying the unsaid out loud.

Whatever you need.

I'm just going to stand here
in case you need anything.

If you must.

I must.

Fucker.

- I assume you mean me.
- Bit late.

Ah, I have a full life.
Randomness is an aspect.

Like killing 47 nobles in
Vlastin? That kind of randomness?

Forty-seven? That all? When you
pile up bodies, looks like more.

Optical illusion, I guess.

And yet, I don't remember that
being in your instructions.

You said, "Raise chaos."
Consider it raised.

It's an art, not an exact science.
The people, they get out of hand.

- Apparently.
- You wanted her scared, right?

She is that.

Then you're welcome.

Can I have some of that?

Mm.

Yes. Well, the final stage approaches.

You know, I think we
could take her down.

They fucking love me out there.
They are fucking hot for blood.

I think I actually speak to
them. I'm sort of having a...

- Breakdown?
- Epiphany.

Power of the pulpit.
It can go to one's head.

You wanted to be rich? You
will be rich at the end of this.

No, I think I've moved us to a
point where she has to kill me.

What with the noble killing, et cetera.

She actually wants to
apologize for stabbing you.

Oh, sweet.

I'd love to fuck her. You
think that's on the table?

- I'll definitely mention it.
- Oh. Funny.

You're kind of a charming
fucker, aren't you?

Has been said.

Bite?

Focus on the plan.

One more town, Tekov.
Don't kill any nobles.

Make contact with the local cleric.

Stay there. Send this letter.

You would like to
negotiate with the Empress,

the Church is your rock, et cetera.

Here are your notes.

Okay. Tekov.

Okay.

Great.

Anything else?

Quickie against the
carriage? No one will see.

I don't think...

Well, it's all about
not fucking thinking.

Ooh, look at you, waiting
to exhale, my friend.

All caught up inside.

Well, I say blow, fucking blow!

Oooh!

Fucking foreplay, I love it.

Do your job!

I mean, let's face it,

you're thinking about that
all the way home, Patriarch,

and long into the fuckin' night.

Mm!

Fucking hell.

Is that them?

Told you.

- Fuck.
- Who is it?

- It's Catherine's carriage.
- She is a marvel.

I was just missing her, and here she is.

We could just keep going. They
can't cross the lake in a carriage.

Great. We should wave.

Look friendly, though.
No pointless animosity.

I want good diplomatic relations
with her when I'm back on the throne.

I'll go talk to her.

Why? She's just gonna tell you to stop.

- We don't know that.
- We stole her army!

True, but she is mercurial
and always unexpected,

so she may have come to be supportive.

- Is he kidding?
- People misunderstand our love.

And besides, what if I die in battle?

One frenzied sexual skirmish of
a poignant nature seems opportune.

Fucking hell. She's not
gonna forgive treason!

Ah!

Should we just keep going?

Let's wait.

Oh, just you.

Did you come to have tea with me

and to discuss the liberation of women

from the yoke of the cock and the heart,

along enlightenment principles?

No.

- I thought he was with you.
- No.

Well, no doubt he's with
the real love of his life.

Peter. Of course.

- Hi.
- Disloyal.

- I was worried.
- Hmm.

Ah, hello.

"Ah, hello"? Are you fucking kidding me?

Ah, you're mad.

Beyond that.

And then imagine that, and then
imagine more, much fucking more.

And then imagine all again as if
magnified by a magnifying glass

the size of the fucking moon.

Elaborate metaphor that suggests
you are not here to be supportive.

- You stole my army!
- True.

- And you lied to me about hunting.
- I am hunting.

Hunting Swedes, hunting a legacy,

and we've also hunted many
quail, so hunting was true.

I don't want to talk.

No one knows this has
happened and no one will.

Au contrairee.

"Oh-contri" what?

Means opposite of what you said.

Everyone will know. It will
be in the history books.

And many songs and short dramatic
plays will be written celebrating it.

And also, a small recipe book of meals

cooked on the journey to victory.

Do you actually think I'm
going to let you steal my army

and take Sweden in my name?

Yes, because you're smart.

And when you look past
this little swirl of anger,

you'll recognize its
brilliance and own it as yours.

I don't want to invade Sweden.

Or guess what? I would have!

- We don't do many things together.
- What?

And the Choglokovs'
book says you should.

I think they mean playing
bridge or beekeeping.

Not invading a democratic nation
at the loss of thousands of lives.

No, 672 is the estimate.

Our plan, which I
basically came up with,

is so brilliant, I...

Yeah, let me draw it
in the snow for you.

Grigor, you disloyal fuck,
get me some twigs and leaves

of various colors to
create roads and such.

Grigor, do not!

- Grigor!
- Don't know what to do.

Get Velementov, get
Hugo, and let's go home.

So you won't even listen?

This arrogance of yours!

I am not at my best this day,
in the snow, miles from home,

as a madman whips up
my people against me.

As the court simmers.

And the idea you did this now? Now!

Because if it got out, everyone
would smell chaos, opportunity.

You know that!

I suppose if I'd stopped to analyze,

I do see that now,
but easy to get around.

Who's not listening?

- Oh. Thanks.
- One thing.

I am loyal to you, your safety.

Not your idiotic plans triggered
by a foppish Swedish cunt!

Right, okay. Calm down.

Don't ever say "disloyal" to me again.

Yes, I understand. Calm down.

I'll be at a respectful distance.

Catherine, you should own this.

We go take Sweden back, you
come, we weekend in Stockholm,

get the plaudits and love of a
new nation and an ally forever,

and a victory that rallies our people

away from the distraction of Pugachev.

Hugo will give us a seaport,
which is what we always wanted.

Then on the way home, we find
Pugachev, apologize, cut his head off,

and go from village to village,

introducing me as your
loving, supportive husband,

and introducing Pugachev's head,
explaining what has happened.

We go home, and it is a
tale Paul feeds on for life.

No.

I think it should be entertained.

It is entertaining, but
not entertained. Let's go.

Hah!

Sometimes words are clearly not enough.

- You wish to fight me?
- If I need to.

Ooh.

Oh!

What are they doing?

Throwing snowballs.

Aggressively or playfully?

Mm, that's hard to say.

You know... there is a
buffet in the carriage.

A buffet?

Hams, mustard fruits,

a rabbit terrine sprinkled with
your own lemon and thyme salt.

Oh, it is a trick.

No, you want me to get in
the carriage, take me away.

Oh, great idea.

Grigor can ride your horse back
and we can fuck all the way home.

Your strategy is transparent.

And nonetheless powerful
for it, I suspect.

Grigor, terrine!

I have to do this.

My father appears to me.

As in, you actually see him?

I do. He wants more of me.

- Fuck him!
- No, I want more of me.

Me as I am is not enough.

That is mad! You are the
most enough I have ever met.

It's all in your head.

Look.

This terrine is here, I
am here. We are enough.

Mm.

It is fucking good.

Hmm.

Because of the salt, because of you.

Ooh, did I tell you I am going
to try my salt on desserts?

I have ordered
Jean-Pierre to experiment.

Madness, but brilliant.

Let us go investigate these desserts.

Let's go.

No.

Why not?

Because ordination.

Because you. Because Sweden.

I never should have said
that, "Because Sweden."

- I was being mean.
- You meant it.

I did fuck it up, my whole reign.

That's my legacy.

We are your legacy.

What will Paul see? And you?

As you grow larger and larger,
as we both know you will,

I will look smaller and
smaller to him, and to you.

It is mad talk.

You hear old voices...

Hugo, Peter the Great...

calling you back to
a place you have left.

But hear my voice.

I see your son's eyes,

the way they brighten when
they're on you, and yours on him.

And us...

we have rewritten each other in
the best, most infuriating way.

That is enough.

That's close to enough.

Peter!

Fuck! You do this and
you can't come back!

- You're angry now, but...
- I mean it.

Catherine.

- I mean it.
- You don't.

I do!

You kill me, every fucking day.

You bend me and my reign.

Enough! Enough!

I mean what I say.

There are many versions of you.

And you know I am the
only one who sees them all.

- Yes.
- And you know I love them all,

even when I find them
baffling and idiotic.

Yes, you do.

I just ask the same of you.

Peter.

There are "us" things and "me" things.

This is a "me" thing.

I need this.

I am the leader of
Russia, not just a wife.

The army is a "me" thing.

That version of you will
have to kill me to stop me.

Don't say that.

Let me go do this.

No.

Just no.

Just don't.

You think I am destroying
us, and I know I'm saving us.

- No!
- Really?

Really. And shut up.

I'll send word when we're done.

I love you.

My whole fucking heart and all my body

and whatever ineffable
spirit animates me.

Everything.

Eh, actually, I...

Oh, shit.

No! No!

Peter!

Peter!

Fucking burns when I piss.

You get that?

Where is he?

Fuck.

Ah, George!

- Elizabeth! How are you?
- I'm well.

I was just looking for the Empress.

I found a passage in the Nakaz
I wanted to discuss with her.

Which passage was that?

Rights of appeal of regional governors,

as pertains to the issuing
of agricultural permits.

Page 94.

The whole thing's
incredibly impressive, you.

You don't believe a woman can change?

She can change her plan.

The strangest feeling
just shot through me.

Oh, gosh.

I might sit.

Lev, get Elizabeth some vodka.

Tell me we imagined it.

Fuck.

That's it then.

Let's ride around the lake. We
should reach them by nightfall.

Or...

couple of thoughts.

We keep going.

He's... Peter's dead.

It's over.

Yeah. And you will be too, soon.

I need to go see her.

- She's gonna put a bullet in your head.
- Well, maybe it'll be a relief.

You don't deserve that.

You served your country your whole life.

I find that very sad.

Maybe my fate was to fucking
fail and the rest is delusion.

Okay.

Let me lay this out for you.

So you go back and you'll be
hanged or shot as a traitor.

Committed treason, stole troops,
led Peter to his fucking death.

- Enough!
- You were on thin ice with her already.

Fuck, badly timed pun.

The point is, she's not
gonna be in a forgiving mood.

Grief is fuckin' weird.

My dog died when I was 11,

and I ate leaves for two months
and would only communicate in rhyme.

Shut up, meatball. You just
want your fucking country back.

And you just want a moment worthy
of who you thought you were.

And I can give you that.

A victory that monarchies all
over Europe will fucking celebrate,

and the man who wrought it will
be in the fuckin' history books.

Add in a few months of Swedish blondes,

amazing meatballs made from
perfectly minced elk meat,

and no doubt you'll get to fuck Agnes

'cause I can see she
weirdly fucking wants to,

and so be it.

We're men who have what
we want in our grasp.

Or we're not, and we cry
in our fucking silk pants

about our friend dying and
fuck up our lives for nothing.

He isn't coming back either way.

And in a few months, neither are you.

Or your plan: go home,
get shot tomorrow.

Thoughts?

What the fuck.

Nothing fucking matters anymore.

Loving this attitude.

I can see why Agnes
is in fucking thrall.

Poor fuckin' kid.

Peter?

No, her.

Yeah.

Okay, let's go.

Harder!

I'm not in the mood for company.

I'm not company. Did you see him?

Yes.

Well? Don't keep me in suspense.

The plan continues.

Do this for me for a bit. I'm exhausted.

- Really?
- Really.

And when does it end?

The plan.

So much better to be lashed by another.

Jesus. What is going on?

I hate myself, my longings.

Why? Why me?

Jesus. Did you fuck Pugachev?

No, no. I'm too strong for that.

But he is handsome.

Fuck me. Is this whole thing
turning into a love story?

He is a question sent.

Everything we're faced
with is a question, you see?

God is, is, is fortifying
me to do his work

through and with a
demon, and I must prevail.

Why am I worried you're not
in control of this situation?

I am. I am.

One more.

Archie.

Bring forth your love, saints,
your courage, and dip me in it.

Oh, shit.

Archie, sit!

Okay, okay. I'm fine.

- I'm fine.
- Where is he?

Tekov.

He'll make contact through the clergy.

I bring him here to
Catherine, the deal gets done.

He dies, I assume. Or we
live happily ever after.

Is that possible?

It's not. It's not,
so why say it out loud?

Jesus Christ.

Yes, yes! Let's pray to the Son.

Great idea!

You can't bring Pugachev
to Catherine, Archie.

Fuck knows what he'll say.
What if he talks about me?

He won't. I'll handle it.

I have a firm grasp on things.

Yeah.

I'm gonna leave you to do that.

So beautiful here.

Catherine?

Grigor?

Grigor, so beautiful here.

We really should head
back, though. Let's go.

- What?
- I might run to the carriage.

I feel like running.

What?

We can't leave him.

Come on!

Happy birthday.

What? It's...

It is. I always remember your birthday,

as yours is four days from mine.

And when it's nearing my birthday,

I think always of the cakes
your mother had made for you.

Ah, yes.

Remember the life-size carriage
with a hippo alighting from it?

- Nine.
- They always thrilled me.

Dear, fat Mother.

Of course, you forgot your birthday.

You're in that exciting phase.

How do you mean?

The plan.

I'm figuring you make
a breathless entrance

into Catherine's apartments.

Dawn, probably, to give it a sense
of drama and urgency, excitement.

Me, Archie.

"Pugachev has written and
I can solve this problem

in exchange for gratitude
and a list of demands."

Oh, your face.

Uh, it's the marzipan.

I'm not a fan.

Pugachev.

Charismatic man, but
an employee mentality,

even in the bedroom.

You fucked him? How was that?

That is what you take from my
revelation you're behind Pugachev?

Oh, you want to fuck him.

Jesus Christ!

Oh, you poor thing. How tormenting.

What do you want?

You haven't told her?

Why would I do that?

As long as Paul gets
ordained and she is unharmed,

then it is a valuable lesson

in how easily chaos can be
unleashed in the country.

It will be exactly that.

Then I am happy as a
hippo in a carriage.

How did you know?

Your desk drawer was empty, and I
know what a letter writer you are.

You wrote a play. I love it!

I could only show you.

- It's a bit...
- Incendiary, but funny.

I know. I love Swift.

Oh, Swift. Great.

Probably a bit treasonous
about Catherine.

Written from love for
country, it could not be.

Maybe she's for fucking real, Arkady.

Did they actually all
go hunting without me?

And then to send me a note, I mean,

that's a fuck in the face, isn't it?

- And all I've done is be loyal.
- Me too.

- But are we ever fucking rewarded?
- Mm-hm.

- That badminton thing.
- Oh!

I can't fucking take this!

I know what you're doing.

I don't know what you mean.

I forgive you for shooting me.

It was my patriotic duty.
Possibly the thing I'm proudest of.

You used to say your tits

were the thing you were most proud of.

I guess I evolved.

George, it's me.

Just wink, that's all, so I know.

Because it's driving me crazy,

and honestly, I miss
you, bitch as you are.

Tatyana, this need for
status and others' love

reflects a deep gnawing hole in you

that can only be
filled by a new society.

I'll pull your fucking hair out.

Just wink and I'll know.

You have been created by a
system that destroys women.

I feel for you, and all of
us, but a new dawn is coming.

Bye.

Dresses will be the first to go.

Grigor went hunting, too?

Oh, is that where he is?

Everyone but fucking me.

You all right?

You know, when I was a girl in Germany,

we went to this garden and, two things.

One, all the plants were so delicate,

I really thought fairies had made them.

And also, second thing, everything
in the garden was a circle.

The garden, all the plants, the
hedges, maybe even the clouds.

I really loved it.

And my sister Angela and I ran
around and around it, laughing,

and Mother screamed at us, but
we wouldn't stop, until we did,

and then we were so dizzy we threw up.

Her on my face, me on her feet.

Right.

So, we should do that.

What? Throw up?

No, silly!

Have at least one or maybe all
the palace gardens all circular.

In fact, all the country palaces,
too. It's fun. People would love it.

It just brings joy,
nothing more than that,

but there's nothing wrong with that.

Joy! Hexagons alone would amuse.

- Are you all right?
- Fine.

I can't believe it. I just...

Fuck.

Grigor, stop.

Uh, what?

Listen to me.

I don't think it happened.

What?

I lay down, and when I
looked back up, nothing.

Just icy lake.

Beautiful icy lake.

Grigor, I think we imagined it.

- Catherine.
- The sun, snow blindness, hallucinating.

- It happens out there.
- I saw.

W... was-was wet.

- I don't think it happened!
- Catherine!

- I don't. I think we imagined it.
- I...

Grigor!

That's what happened!

Okay, Catherine. Okay.

Yes.

Just...

rest.

If I could, but I am Empress
and so I can never rest.

It's the joy and the
burden. I must work.

Hmm.

Marial, please.

- Sorry.
- What's wrong?

Nothing.

A wife should always be able to
unburden themself to their husband.

A load shared is a load halved.

You can't choke on a loaf
of bread that's shared.

- Half an egg...
- Yes, okay, okay.

Ridiculous to tell you, but
maybe if I say it out loud.

I'm guessing it's Pugachev.

Yes, I'm...

I'm worried that Archie has
lost control of this, or himself.

He's going to bring him here.

Interesting. Go on.

Well, that puts me in danger.

Us. Us in danger.

Do you think I won't be
tainted with the brush?

You know what? I just need to relax.

Archie's brilliant, always.

This is his morning gruel.

- We need to kill him.
- Archie?

- Good plan, thanks for your help.
- Pugachev.

He's a fucking peasant
putting you in danger.

Archie is secure, he's a
patriarch, he'll be fine.

- You...
- Well, I...

They grab Pugachev by the
balls and he squeals your name.

What then?

She never forgives me again.

No royal dinners or
new shoes or court life.

At best, exiled from the palace.

You really want to spend the rest
of our lives on the family estate?

- I hate the estate.
- Manure and mosquitoes.

That is exactly what I
think of when I think of it!

It cannot be. I'll kill him for you.

Happy to do it.

Your birthday's coming up,

and I've been wanting to do
something special for you.

Sweet.

But Pugachev trusts me. I'll do it.

Okay.

Do you want some milk?
I could use some milk.

Sure. Milk would be great.

I don't think I can do this.

- You can.
- I can't.

- You can.
- I don't think I can...

- Can!
- Catherine.

Can! Can!

Can and will.

Yes.

Yes.

Ah, hello.

We must have a big
breakfast for the court.

Gather chefs and people to help
me arrange such immediately.

And flowers, many flowers.

Gather them in the Green Salon.

Pearl handle or matte black?

Pearl handle's so pretty, it'll
probably distract him for a second.

- Pretty's always good.
- Surprise is everything, my advice.

Well, I've done it before.

- Hi!
- Hi.

Late.

Uh, yeah, I guess so, but also early.

So, in deciding to come here,
I went with the early thought.

Dawn's coming. Why are you two up?

Marriage stuff. I'll wait outside.

Where were you?

Went riding, got lost, fell
off my horse, got knocked out,

woke up with a deer's
tongue in my mouth.

- Weird story.
- I don't think so.

I mean, it's the forest;
I'm another creature to them,

so my tongue's just
part of a greater whole.

You okay? How hard
did you hit your head?

- Pretty hard.
- Well, did you see Vinodel?

I did. How are you? I'm
more interested in you.

What's going on? How
was your day yesterday?

Two days. Were you with Peter?

What were you and Maxim talking about?

Seemed serious, kind of intense.

Oh, um, Maxim and his shoe compulsion,
trying to get a handle on it.

- Let him have his fucking shoes, I say!
- Right.

Kid's only got one fucking
life, might as well live it.

You want to lie down?

Yeah, I do, but I also
don't think I can sleep.

You relax here.

I have to go to our estate.
I'll be back in a day or two.

Your estate? You hate your estate.

I really fucking do.

But sometimes duty calls, and
I have to save the fucking day.

It's what I do.

"Breakfast served for all nobles."

"Joy is on the menu. Fucking joy."

Ah! How wonderful.

And good morning.

Yes, it's early, but why waste the day?

A wren got in the room before,

pecked Petra in the back
of the head and flew away.

It was such fun!

I could not wait to tell
you some important news.

Agnes!

Glad you are here.

As am I, Empress.

Ah, marvelous!

Mm.

Mm! Whew!

War.

Ladies and gentlemen, I have,

and we are already in the process of...

invading Sweden!

- What?
- Is this a jape?

Peter the Third, Hugo,
and General Velementov

have taken's three battalions
and ride for Sweden this day!

Archie, pray for
victory immediately. Go!

Uh... um, indeed.

I, uh...

I send you, Lord, a missive

to honor our men, uh,
uh, protect our men,

and may we make a river of Swedish blood

that you may sail a golden boat on.

Eh, boat bit is weird but evocative.

It's early. I'm struggling.

- Huzzah!
- Huzzah!

Let us all sing a
rousing Russian war song!

We will restore monarchy!

So, with me, everyone!

Petrov, start us off!

Catherine, what a crazy business.

Where did this come from?

Peter and I don't do
enough together. So, Sweden.

You've added mystery to
your repertoire. I like it.

- Agnes.
- Can I have a moment?

Of course.

Later, my dear.

I'm a bit stunned.

It is a stunner.

How did this come about? I
was sure you would never...

And are they really on
their way with troops?

They are.

And you, so happy.

Your eyes are shining so bright, I
think they might burst into flames.

Thank you.

We never dreamed you would come on side.

So manufactured a plot
beneath my cute button nose.

I'm...

Huzzah.

Dream of Stockholm.

You'll return there soon.

What the fuck-ity fuck?

Empress?

Archie! Oh, great. Hello.

Great prayer, stayed with me.

A gold boat on a river
of blood. Amazing.

Thank you! Uh, the spirit
moves in mysterious ways.

Like our sudden war with Sweden?

Do you think God is like,

"I don't know what the fuck
to do next," moment to moment?

Let's call it me moving
in mysterious ways,

and then it'll seem all-powerful

and bring logic to bear
where there is none.

It's an interesting
theological question.

God is savvy.

Do you like pistachios?
We should get some.

I have a letter from
Pugachev. No to pistachios.

He is prepared to come in, give
himself up to me and the Church,

and be held while you negotiate
an end to the uprising.

- Brilliant news!
- I thought so. Made my day.

So we bring him in and I kill him.

That your advice?

It would be a relief to all of us.

Great. Thanks, Archie.

Mm!

No, you looked sad.

- No, I...
- Great.

Ah, I feel tired a bit.

Right. I will go then.

Shall I undress you for bed?

No. I have things to do.

- Grigor, what's going on?
- Nothing.

I've known you since you were
12. Why did you cry in there?

I was moved by the whole thing.

- A lie.
- Get the fuck off me!

You look terrified!

I'm not.

Grigor!

I feel like my chest is gonna explode.

Fuck!

Okay, what is it? My
darling, what is it?

I'm sorry. I-I'm not being mean to you.

I mean, I was. I just stopped.

Punch me in the face. I need
to... Fuck me or punch me.

Your choice. But something!

What is it?

Look at me.

N-No, no.

Okay, you're scaring me.

I don't know how to live anymore.

What do you mean?

He's gone, George.

Who's gone?

Peter.

He's dead.

What the fuck are you talking about?

We went to the ice, to th-the lake,

and he took the army and fucking Hugo

and Catherine and Peter talked, and...

if I hadn't said
anything, he'd still be...

But he wouldn't come back,
and I had a bad feeling,

which is why I fucking told her.

And he said "disloyal," but I wasn't.

I-I, I never was, not to him, ever.

I just had a bad fucking feeling,
and he fell through the ice.

W-What? What are you... What...

His horse fell through the ice,
and he was caught in the stirrup.

And I... I ran, George.

I fucking ran, and I put my
head in, and I caught a glimpse,

and he looked...

he looked bewildered,

like...

"What the fuck?"

And then they disappeared.

H-He, he was gone. Is gone.

And Catherine said we
imagined it, but we didn't.

We fucking didn't.

And she won't tell anyone, and I
can't tell anyone or she'll kill me.

She's fucking mad!

And I...

He's dead?

He's fucking dead.

She knows?

And you can't tell anyone.

Ah, I know how I'll getcha.
I know how I'll getcha.

Ooooh!

A lob, you clever bitch!

I didn't see it coming.

Boo!

Ooh!

Whoa! Ah!

- Can I play?
- Yes!

Watch out for my lob.

I put spin on it, and
it's fucking dangerous.

I'll watch out for it.

Ah!

Ooh!

- Synced and corrected by chamallow -
- www.addic7ed.com -