All language subtitles for The Great (2020) - S02E08 - Seven Days (1080p BluRay x265 Silence)-eng

I inaugurate this new salon

with the revelation that
is Shakey's paintings.

It is an act of love,

for when you look at each
painting, they shimmer with humanity.

They are a gift to
us from one we lost.

Lovely speech, darling.

To remind everyone of
your greatest failure is bold.

(CLASSICAL MUSIC PLAYING)

Don't play that!

We abhor Beethoven.

BOTH: Abhor, not adore.

Please don't be confused.

(BOTH LAUGH)

- Something else.
- Berezovsky is always good.

(PLAYING VIOLIN PIECE)

Mm. Marvelous.

Thank God you're here to
guide these wayward souls.

Berezovsky. Brilliant.
How's your schnitzel?

Odd?

It's venison, not veal.

I found it odd at first,
but it grows on you.

We lose our refinements
one bad bite at a time.

Epicurus.

Is she sweating?

(ELIZABETH STUTTERS)

I believe so.

Look at you, Marial.
Whisper, whisper.

Such a curious creature you are.

Judas who got to sit
at the table for dessert.

- Mother, that's not...
- Anyone else would've cut your throat.

And yet, here you are.

I think you've
misconstrued the story.

Do not prod the lioness.

Really? So, you help push my
naive daughter into a coup attempt,

and then at the climactic moment

just as all the plans
were rolling out,

you told the emperor,
thereby scuppering all the plans

in order to save your own
neck and be reinstated as a lady.

What did I get wrong?

Actually, a pretty
good summation.

Thank you, Orlo.

And yet, somehow, here she sits,
with a mouthful of potato dauphinoise,

diamonds round her neck
and a whisper in her throat.

- What other secrets do you carry?
- (CHUCKLES) None.

Everyone does their
best in times of war.

You did well not to have your
head rolling down a hill, Elizabeth.

Mother is just teasing.

Please don't explain me,
darling. It ruins the mystery.

Impossible. Your beauty is a
mystery man can never solve.

Only gaze upon it in hopes
of more revealing clues.

Oh, men are funny, aren't they?

They imagine themselves
still young, attractive and virile,

no matter what the age.

Ah! A special treat
from the Americas.

A trader just brought them
back. They are called peanuts.

- Mm. Marvelous.
- Ah! Aren't they?

I cannot stop eating them.

But then, I eat dirt, flowers,

the occasional pickle
wrapped in skate wing.

Do not mind my
Epicurus strangeness.

But are they not great?

- Mmm! Indeed.
- Indeed!

Huzzah! Peanuts!

- Peanuts!
- To my mother!

ARCHBISHOP: Huzzah!
ELIZABETH: Huzzah!

And how long will we have the
pleasure of your company, Joanna?

As long as I...

- (THUDS)
- Mother!

(THEME MUSIC PLAYING)

- VINODEL: Take these.
- What are they?

I can't remember, but they
seem to cure almost everything.

Mother, are you all
right? I'm mortified.

I thought that was it for a
moment. I thought you'd killed me.

- Don't say that. I'm sorry.
- I need to rest, darling.

But there's a list...

Of everyone you should kill.

- Mother, they fought for me.
- You don't know what they fought for.

All right, go now. Go, go.

Fuck! Do not stare at me!

Let us go to work. We will
start with banning peanuts!

- She makes me nervous.
- ELIZABETH: Mmm.

She does send the
empress into an unravel.

Mothers.

Thank God mine fucking
died, if that is what it is.

Be wary, Marial, of getting inside
that bubble. Remember Count Lasky.

You fucked that guy up.

I would walk in, and he'd
be fucking Mother in the face.

Later, I'd hear
him working on her.

Money, send Samsa away,
lose weight. I had to do something.

A boy should not see his
mother fucked in the face.

Indeed. It is scarring.

As were the 30
holes you put in him.

Unfortunately, I was
all rage and fire then.

- Now, I'm fine though.
- She's not herself around her mother.

- She has it in for all of us.
- We just need to ride her out.

She will get bored of
venison schnitzel and leave.

She was troubling,
and she has a game,

more than mother tortures
daughter, but I cannot quite see it.

And she is turning Catherine against
us inch by fucking inch while we wait.

Patience. It's an
underrated strategy.

So is a handful of peanuts
squashed into her big fat mouth.

- I need to measure you.
- My stomach?

Your opening.

(STUTTERING) You know,
it's funny. I was just thinking.

Sometimes I miss my mother.

Her being dead at an early age
and sometimes I'm glad she's dead

as I have lived my own
life on my own terms.

(FROG CROAKING)

- Subtle.
- What are you...

We have some concerns.

Seeing you with your mother,
you are not quite yourself.

We worry what she does to you.

You mean beside love me
beyond any human on this earth,

care for me and my sisters like
we are precious fucking gems,

make a home for us and ignite a fire
in us to be the special ones we are?

She perhaps does not
understand us, is our point.

We worry she wants us dead.

Oh, she did give me a
list and you were on it.

- Oh. I'm first.
- Oh.

Relax. She has always
wanted people dead.

For months once, she plotted
the death of our neighbor Hess,

as he had eyed Donna in
a way she found disturbing.

We would gather round
with tea and kugelhopf

and we would all have to think of ways
we could kill him and get away with it.

Fun game. We just played chess.

She is protective of me.
Don't trouble yourselves.

- Mother, are you feeling all right?
- Quite fine.

I would not miss your
checkup. Your rash is worse.

VINODEL: Well,
that's interesting.

We have a small opening
of some six centimeters.

JOANNA: Oh.

- A frog?
- It is well known here.

Ha! I'm so reassured.

Maybe it seems strange,
but I have become used to it.

Oh, gosh. It's dead.

Shit! What does that
mean? Is the baby all right?

It means you will give
birth in seven days.

I was about to say the same.

(DOOR OPENS)

Oh, I love how you eat that.

- I...
- JOANNA: With sensual relish.

No, just a fig. Don't
even like it actually.

- Did you want something?
- Yes, I did. I was hungry.

Oh.

You have to tongue it...

Oh.

Slowly...

To really release
its perfumed juices.

Jesus Christ.

- Why fight it?
- Your daughter?

I think you have a large appetite
that is not constrained by morality.

Moderation in all
things, I always say.

- You always say that?
- No, first time actually.

(JOANNA CHUCKLES)

I think we could have a
very happy family together.

Right. A complicated
version of family, but...

Well, a version where everyone
is happy and gets what they want.

- (JOANNA EXCLAIMING)
- (PETER GRUNTS)

Ohh. There it is.

It will be intense, won't it?

You should go. I
have soufflé class.

So handsome.

Peter the Great
visited Germany once.

What a man. You
remind me of him.

- Really?
- Hmm.

Women were weak-kneed
and often splay-kneed.

No one has ever told me
I reminded them of him.

And Catherine likes you.

She could be a real asset
to you. You were born to rule.

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

- I'm betting on part horse.
- I'm betting on her dying.

Well, that's your heart,
not your head, Arkady.

But if she does...

Peter's on the throne, I kill
Grigor. I'm his number one.

- And I kill Marial.
- What? Why?

She's so fucking rude.

Two to one, the
empress dies in childbirth.

Four to one, kid is part horse.

Eight to one, Vinodel kills
him. Possibly accidentally.

So, here it comes.

Do you think they'll
make us godparents?

Us? There is no us.

Ah. I keep forgetting we're
a figment of our imagination.

- Exactly. Fuck me later?
- Love to.

Ten to one, baby is
tragically born with a vagina.

Four to one, a boy.

- Twenty to one, part crocodile.
- VELEMENTOV: Fucking hell.

- ORLO: Yeah.
- Avoided thinking about it, this day.

I have been trying to
game it out for weeks

every time I looked
at her stomach.

Nineteen percent of
women die in childbirth.

Two to one seems
quite good then.

My point is if she dies, he comes back
or Archie has some plan in the wings.

Or other option, someone
kills her and Peter

and tries to coup with the baby.

- The Portugal plan.
- Exactly.

Well, whoever ends up in
power, they still need an army.

But do they need
you? And what of me?

You're completely expendable.

- So, every man for himself?
- Of course. It's still Russia.

Vinodel loses tool inside
empress, five to one.

For you, from Vinodel.

Take it when you wish
to quieten your libido.

Which is whenever
Joanna is around.

Uh, it will have to be powerful stuff
as my libido is a fucking orchestra.

Take much then. Do
not touch that flame.

PETER: My ears don't
look like that, fuckhead.

- Hey. You ready?
- Seven days, Grigor!

Seven days I am to be a father.
I have not been this excited ever.

(SCOFFS) And I have killed many,

eaten fugu fish blindfolded
and fucked every which way,

including once with George

where I packed my cock in ice
until it was frozen and rock hard

and when I thrust it into her wet
warmth, we both came instantly,

and both agreed we
saw some kind of starburst

behind our eyes in that instant.

- That's weird.
- What is?

Story didn't bother me.

- Fuck me, look at that fireplace.
- Brilliant, isn't it?

GRIGOR: Slightly terrifying.

You don't think too
much for a little kid?

For most kids, certainly,
but for Paul, he will love it.

We will grill animal parts
over the open fire together

and then pull them out,

pretending we are stealing
them from an angry bear,

giving him an appreciation for
courage and open fire grilling.

(PETER LAUGHS)

I tell you what, Grigor, I was
born to be a father. I feel it.

- Let's go dig. It's time.
- I don't want to do that.

You have to do that.

I don't want to. It
seems fucking weird.

Everyone does it. Your father
did it. It's bad luck not to do it.

- Fuck.
- That's a yes. Let's go!

(SIGHS)

So, you will be there.

I absolutely will not be.

- Is that...
- Spectator seating.

Apparently, front rows
are going for 2,000 rubles.

I'm not giving birth
while people watch on.

I know what your concern
is, but I assure you,

when you shit yourself, an attendant
will be standing by to whisk it away,

effortlessly and elegantly.

Elizabeth.

- Help me.
- I wish I could. It's a horror.

You must do this, after
what happened in Denmark.

- Denmark?
- The baby died, another was procured.

- What do you mean, "procured"?
- Bought, stolen or perhaps rented.

- But the point is...
- It wasn't the true heir.

Ever since then, public birth.
I'm sorry. That's the reality.

Rumors come out it's not
yours, they are hard to refute,

and that catches on, and...

Opposition forces coalesce
round the idea of a fake heir.

However, the indelible imprint
of the royal cunt cannot be faked.

You will not even notice the
spectators. The pain will be blinding.

- I feel better. Thank you, Vinodel.
- We must have witnesses.

It will be delicately handled.

I am selling the placenta
if anyone's interested.

Catherine, darling,
what are you doing?

Working.

You should be in
confinement, resting,

directing all your focus
and energy on the baby.

That is the way our
family has done it.

- It is actually our ritual, too.
- Helpful, Orlo.

I have so much to do, Mother.

I rested for two weeks
before you came,

and when you came, of course,
it being you, it was a torrid affair,

trying to get you to
come into the world.

But finally you slid
forth, and I was spent,

slathered in sweat,
bleeding horribly,

dizzy with pain,
my eyes flickering.

And you came out
all twisted and blue,

a cord wrapped tight
round your throat, no breath.

Doctors were screaming.

I heard someone say,
"They're both going."

And I stared at you...

And we locked eyes,

and I willed you not to
die with everything I had.

Your eyes closed,
your head flicked back...

And I thought for a
second that was it.

And then you barked out
a cough, almost a laugh.

Black stuff spewed out of your
mouth, and you burst out crying.

No, not crying, roaring.

You would live, and I
knew then that I would too,

for I could not leave you.

I would carry you
on this journey,

and I swear you smiled at me,

and I wept...

And I could not stop.

WOMAN: Gosh.

GRIGOR: Friends...

We welcome you to
the digging of the graves.

When a man's wife is birthing,
death may come to one or to both.

A man must prepare.

Dig their graves and
sit three days and nights

pondering their possible death.

In this way, he prepares
his heart for tragedy

or to have his joy sweetened.

ARCHBISHOP: I bless this ground.

May it be left empty

and the sounds we
hear in a few days' time

are the insane, pained
shrieks of a woman giving birth

to a wailing, shitting child, gifted
by God with health and wealth

rather than the images of the
dead, gray carcasses of your beloved.

- Jesus. Do we have to...
- ARCHBISHOP: Amen.

- ALL: Amen.
- Begin the digging.

This whole thing
is fucking macabre.

It is a time of celebration, not
depressing Russian shit like...

(CHORUS SINGING)

PETER: Okay. Fuck me.

At least sing something upbeat.

Sylvana, she needs tea
hourly. Only women may visit.

A 15-minute stroll in
the fresh air once a day.

And no vexatious
thoughts or excitements.

Yes, ma'am.

Rest your child, my child.

Hmm.

- Funny.
- JOANNA: That's me.

Oh, and also,
you'll probably tear.

- So you need to be prepared for that.
- Tear? What will tear?

Shh. Rest.

(CHORUS SINGING)

Are you really not ever
going to stop singing?

It's bad luck.

- He looks funny.
- Shh. Alyosha, sing.

The ground is like rock.

- (GRUNTS)
- (ALYOSHA LAUGHS)

Oh fuck! Shut the
fuck up, you little shit!

- Fuck you.
- (SINGING STOPS)

Crownless eunuch.

ARKADY: Oh shit. Peter, no.

ARKADY: Ignore him. He's
just going through a phase.

(ALL GRUNTING)

Lobcocked fuckhead.

I will dig you a new
arsehole, you little shit!

- Alyosha, go back to the palace.
- Come here, you little...

ARKADY: Stop!

- Please.
- Are you going to shoot me?

I'm not sure what's going to
happen. It's a confusing situation.

But you hit him, I think I might.
So, everyone, just stop. Please.

- Alyosha, go home.
- Okay.

- He's just a kid. I shouldn't have.
- Have a drink.

(CHORUS SINGING)

Oh, for fuck sakes, must you?

PETER: I have no shovel now.
We should probably call it a day.

We have many shovels.

(SIGHS)

- This is interminable.
- I enjoy your company also.

I cannot just sit here.

I understand Mother's
point, but I must run Russia.

She just doesn't understand
you. In the way, say, I do.

Do not speak ill of
her or you will be dead.

- I am joking.
- Right.

Your mother is here with
ladies to entertain you.

I was raised in love and joy. That
is how all children should be raised.

Indeed.

And high expectations, of
course, are also important.

My mother cultivated a
dream in us and for us.

TATYANA: Your
mother is a legend.

No one has married
daughters more well.

And soon Louis of France
for your youngest is the rumor.

- No...
- Indeed. It is exciting.

Hello.

- I heard you'd banished everyone.
- They were fucking annoying.

(SINGING MOCKINGLY)

Funny.

I keep wanting to give up,
but Peter the Great did it for me.

- I know. I helped him.
- You did?

I did.

Yeah, that's enough.
Secret is not to overdo it.

It seems fucked up, this.
Depressing at a time of joy.

Yeah, I thought
so too when I did it,

but then I had to use them.

Right. Shit.

- Just the thought of her and Paul...
- Yeah.

Anything can happen, you know.

I was very sure I was
going to be a great dad...

And then earlier today, I was going
to beat a kid to death with a shovel.

Kids are annoying.

- You close to your kids?
- I was away a lot.

Maybe I should
apologize to Alyosha.

Alyosha? That kid's
a fucking monster.

Still, it would be
a different thing.

No one ever apologized to me

and as I'm writing a new chapter,
perhaps apologizing should be in it.

Back to work.

- Children are such a solace.
- So true.

When you look at your
husband and you hate him,

you remind yourself
he gave you your child.

WOMAN: And try to forget
he also gave you syphilis,

ran your fortune down, and smells
like a cheese-covered wet dog.

- Why do you stay if you're unhappy?
- Marriage is for life in Russia.

We cannot leave, or
we leave with nothing.

Which is why I've
always avoided marriage.

Your father dies though,
what then? You're fucked.

Ladies, you may all go,

but I thank you for the
insight into your lives.

It has inspired me.

- Why are you getting up?
- CATHERINE: I need paper.

Darling, what are you doing?

She has that look.
What do you need?

I will set up in here.

Marial, get me the current legal
codes regarding women and...

What are you talking about?

Think of it. A woman with
the right to divorce a man.

Think of the freedom that would
give women who suffer violence,

drunkenness, men rutting on them
while sweating and smelling of cheese.

It would change the very
dynamics between men and women.

Also, women as
property, that must stop.

You must stop
this. It is a delirium.

Is that not exciting? To change
the systems women live by.

Take power from
men, and give it to us.

It is easy to take power from men,
and sometimes they even enjoy it,

but what you must not
do is advertise about it,

for then their fists come out.

Must you always bite off
more than you can chew?

Wouldn't you have liked
to be freer in your life?

- No.
- (BOOKS THUD)

- (ORLO PANTING)
- (JOANNA SCOFFS)

- What now?
- The Ottomans have sent a message.

Stand back. I suspect
it's full of poisonous bees.

We should all be wearing hoods.

- Is this really necessary?
- Well, at least stand back.

CATHERINE:
Candles. How beautiful.

"Empress Catherine, I accept your
invitation to discuss the way forward.

"These candles are
a token of our esteem

"and that when our differences are
melted by the warmth of discourse,

"we will be left with
nothing but precious jewels."

- That is poetic.
- It worked, your way.

Anyone in the room may congratulate
me on my diplomatic victory!

ALL: Huzzah!

Now, let us fashion a response
and find ourselves a meeting ground.

Also, Orlo, I'm writing a new
legal code for women in Russia.

Oh. Okay.

Mother, I have had a
massive diplomatic victory.

I'm thrilled.

Bring me my dead grandchild
when it falls out of you.

Let me talk to her.

So, you know, it's a tense
time. I have a child coming,

this grave digging is fucked up,

and I lashed out at you
when you were a prick.

- For that I'm sorry.
- That's okay.

Dad always says, "Alyosha,
you can be a real prick."

- Well, you can.
- The prince and I are talking.

- Jesus Christ.
- So, apology accepted?

Sure. You're a bad
man and I respect that.

- I'm not a bad...
- I'm bored now.

Okay, just fuck off.

- That went great.
- You think?

- Very moving.
- It works, you know.

You look at this, and you
can't but think of them dying.

- I can't lose them.
- You won't.

And even if you do...

You have a ball sack full
of prospective children.

Exactly.

And if she dies, you just
start again. Clean slate.

In some ways,
that's the best option.

You come back to being emperor.

Get that Spanish princess
who gave you a hand job

under the table
at the winter ball.

- She was nice.
- So nice.

I want them!

I don't want anything else,
you barren-hearted fuckheads.

- Just trying to...
- Fuck off, both of you!

Fuck. And sorry,
I shouldn't have...

Fuck.

For you.

(JOANNA EXCLAIMING SCORNFULLY)

Tacky but amusing.

You have come to game me.

Please begin. I'm fascinated
with how you go about it.

There is no game here.

I love and believe in
your daughter. That is all.

She is the best thing
to happen to Russia.

Well, that makes us enemies,

because Russia is the
worst thing to happen to her.

You are protective, you worry on her,
I understand, but you do not need to.

- Are you a mother?
- I am.

- Was. He died.
- Oh.

- So, technically not.
- I suppose not.

But once you are,
you are forever.

- How did he die?
- Drowned at six.

Careless to lose one
when you only have one.

I did feel like that after.

How free I'd let him run.

You have kept your
four daughters safe...

And mostly married.

Who a woman
marries defines her life.

Only kings for mine. I
decided on that early.

But I will never believe you
wish to help my daughter,

because you helped her to the
throne and put her under threat.

Even now, could Peter not make
some of these decisions while she births?

You say you care for her, and yet
you enable her delusional nature.

Men will crush her if
she takes their power.

I understand you are upset.

As a mother, when you see your
child is heading down the path to ruin,

and perhaps you feel
you cannot stop them...

That is a horror.

Are you all right?

Yes. I...

I just had a sudden flash of my
son running down the path to the lake

and disappearing
amongst the trees.

Gosh.

- My dear woman.
- I'm sorry.

I'm fine. I might just
go lie down for a minute.

(MOANS)

- You okay?
- I am working. I have to.

I know you do. You are you.

There's something inevitable
about me even to myself.

- Is Mother all right?
- Your mother loves you. As do I.

But I see the woman, and your
mother can't help but see the child.

- She worries you can't do this.
- No, not at all.

She worries I will be
killed in the process,

or Russia cannot change.

She has told me of my
brilliance from the day I was born.

I must have misheard her.

(WOMEN LAUGHING)

- ELIZABETH: Oh, here you are.
- What can we do?

You need to rest, but
you need to be you too.

Thank you.

- Thanks.
- Thank you.

I do love hunting.

Indeed. Me too.

The stalking of prey, the
thrilling anxiety as you see

what it is that you want
and you move in for it...

PETER: Yeah.

And the dizzying rush at
the inescapable takedown.

Indeed. An apt
description. Well...

Bang.

Fucking hell.

What tree are you
imagining us against?

- The birch.
- Yeah.

But I have the graves
to dig. Responsibilities.

So weird, you Russians.

Well, I'll be waiting.

Thank you.

Hello, Paul.

(DOOR CLOSES)

Mama?

Darling.

I'm scared.

I know.

And you should be.

I haven't thought
about being a mother.

This child. I have my
country. How will I?

And they have odds
on me dying in the hall.

It's okay. It's okay.

- Can I sleep with you?
- Of course.

Think about our home.
And our lovely house.

I miss my room some days.

How it looks over the orchard
and when it would blossom.

When the blossoms
came this year...

I stood in your room
holding one of your teddies

and cried like a baby
at how I missed you.

- Don't leave.
- I won't.

Not until you are safe.

I will never be
safe. Not really.

Well, I am thinking of
a way that you can be.

Is it kill all my friends?

(SHUSHES)

Sleep now.

Daddy?

Oh. It's you. Hello.

- I missed you.
- That's very sweet of you to say.

Did you miss me?

It's not really me to
do that sort of thing.

I'm an in-the-moment
kind of man.

Don't look back,
don't look forward,

kill the man in front of me,
eat the pussy in front of me,

- smell the flowers in front of me.
- PETER: Right.

- Fair enough. Hurtful but...
- A man can only be so many things.

I was a poor father,
but I was a great leader.

I wasn't a great husband,
but my wife was a bitch.

We cannot be everything
and we shouldn't try to be.

Wise words, Daddy.

It's effete to call your
father "Daddy" at your age.

Always a problem with me, isn't there?
I thought you said we are who we are.

Maybe I'm a person who
calls their father "Daddy."

(SIGHS) And loses Russia.

I don't want Russia. I
don't think I ever did.

Bullshit.

Don't explain away your failure like
a 12-year-old explains a broken toy.

If I have to come up
there, you'll be sorry.

Fuck you.

I want to be a good father, unlike
you. A good husband, unlike you.

(LAUGHS)

I may not have been
a good father to you.

I did make that fucking
lion out of rubles once.

- That was nice of me.
- I loved that.

But I built cities. I
reimagined the world

and shaped it to my imaginings
through sheer will and power.

I just don't know
that I'm cut out.

Don't interrupt Daddy
when he's talking.

I thought you were done.

I was pausing like the great
orators do. Note that down.

I know you, son. I
watched you grow up.

I know who you are.

You're a fucking primal beast.

You love fucking? Hmm?

And blood sport,
and friends, japes.

And in your blood lurks
the greatness of our line.

- You think?
- Are you ever going to tap into it?

Let the animal in your
soul have what it wants,

for in those wants are
the truth of who you are.

The rest is a spinning top of
bullshit in your brain that lies to you

and sprays shit everywhere.

- I disagree.
- You do, do you? All right.

- (CUP CLATTERS)
- Then I'm coming up there.

And then I'm going to
beat you until you agree.

You think I'm afraid?

I think you're pissing
in your silk pants,

you fucking foppish-faced,

lobcocked, bile-duct-laden,
roach-festering,

shit-whore-cunted fuckhead.

- (PETER ROARS)
- Yes! There he is! There's my boy!

- (PETER GROANS)
- (THUDS)

(GROANS)

VELEMENTOV: Fucking Ottomans.

This would have worked.

(DOOR OPENS)

I saw Dad.

It was fucking Vinodel's potion.

- How is he?
- Seemed about the same.

He doesn't want me
like this. No one does.

And she came to me again. I wanted
to take her in a whirl against a tree.

That's just me,
Aunt. What can I do?

- She is a worry.
- A strange one.

Her own daughter's husband,
and she wants us to be a family.

We can be happy together, all of
us, and I am an emperor, born to be it.

Take what you want, but
it is the want that kills me.

I don't know what want to
obey and what to fucking deny.

She said we could
be a happy family?

And licked a fig
in a way that...

Well... I need to
lie down for a bit.

Men should not be able to
put knives near our faces.

Oddly specific
but don't disagree.

(GIRLS CLAPPING)

- Write it.
- CATHERINE: Sylvana, breakfast, I think.

(EXCLAIMING IN HORROR)

You have the
most beautiful skin.

Sitting here, I was overwhelmed
by a desire to razor it off

and make wallpaper from it.

Tea?

What are you doing here?
And where's Catherine?

Well, I was so excited to
speak to you, I could not wait.

Well, you will wait until I dress.
I do not take guests in my bed.

Well, you do,

or hope to, as we both know,
but that is not why I'm here.

Although we could talk on that
later as your body is Raphaelite good.

- I realized what you're doing.
- And what is that?

You want to transition
Catherine out and Peter in

and put your deal to get your daughter
married to Louis XIV back together,

keeping Catherine
safe at the same time.

Right. So you know.

- And?
- And nothing.

I will just enjoy
your futile railing.

I am saving her from herself.

- Someone will cut her throat!
- Probably.

But she may do much
before that happens.

This is Russia.

We hope for the
best, expect the worst

and don't get too exercised
about either eventuality.

Ah! Hello. I was thinking
I should talk to you.

I was just leaving.

Why does everyone think
they can just walk in here?

ARCHBISHOP: Apologies.

Clearly with this morning's
attempt on the empress's life...

What?

We should start thinking
about what psalms you'd like

in the inevitable
possibility of her demise.

Although they will
likely take her head.

Oh.

It's a thing here.

- Fucking candles.
- Poison.

Poor Sylvana.

I will hold my tongue
as to what we should do,

as we all know what
I think we should do.

It is an act of war.

- Fuck.
- Exactly! Fuckers.

They are not our friend and
have no intention to be our friend.

I don't want this.

They are still skirmishing in and
out of our territory in Reograditch.

It's brutal.

Killing, pillaging,

and they will eventually
take it if we do not respond.

It's like a pie.

You take a bite, you want
to keep taking another.

Well, the pie analogy
is quite telling.

I will talk their language until
they beg to learn a new one.

- Let's go fuck them up.
- War?

I will find it unseemly if
you are too happy about this.

Velementov, these famed war plans
of yours, on my desk tomorrow morning.

Plans? Right.

- Hello.
- Mother, I am busy. We are at war.

How sweet. Because
you know a lot about war.

- The...
- Leave, gentlemen.

We have much to discuss.

Mother, I have a job to do.

- Are you yelling at me?
- No.

Factually incorrect.

Yes is the answer to
my rhetorical question.

You are undermining
me in front of my people.

You are doing that with every
decision you make from my observation.

Taking power from men
and expecting applause.

Cluelessly heading off into war

when you wouldn't even
step on an ant as a child.

Are you yelling at me?

- I mean it rhetorically...
- Don't be smart with me.

I love that you
took this country.

It makes me laugh
when it doesn't terrify me.

Someone tried
to kill you, darling.

I'm dealing with it.
It's part of the job.

And you will die if we
don't change the game.

- And we can.
- What?

In three days' time,
you will have this baby.

And there is a natural pause.

You transition out of
power and into motherhood,

and Peter transitions back in.

And it can be addressed through
Europe as some strange rumor,

and I can get your sister
the French job back.

What?

It can all be just as I
planned, and you can be safe.

Darling? You can play that boy.

We both can. Trust me.

You're staring at me blankly.

I'm just a piece in
your perfect tableau.

The maestro of marriage.

You were born
to be a royal wife.

You were trained
to be a royal wife.

Be one and stop this, and live.

Darling, your sisters
can do it. Why can't you?

Because I am not
them. I'm better.

(GROANS)

Darling.

Let's calm down. I can
see a happy ending.

You are fond of Peter. And
why not? Handsome as hell.

He's a taste one
wants in one's mouth.

We can work this out, darling.

I see a happy ending.

Now, I've raised it with Peter,
and I can see a way there.

You have gone behind my back
in my own court to unseat me?

To save you from yourself.

You are always seeking
for me to look at reality.

Well, suddenly I am...

And it is horrifying.

You don't believe in me.

I've spent my life
trying to get you to...

- And you just don't.
- Darling, trust me.

Your child will become
your empire, as mine did me.

It won't. Russia is my child.

See, it's crazy
statements like that

that make me worry
about your mental state.

Recognize who and
what I am or leave.

Recognize that you are
mad and you need help

and I am here to give it.

- Get out of my palace.
- Catherine!

Get out of my country.

Go!

Chew, little cat.
Chew, chew, chew.

But I will not stick
around while you choke.

(DOOR OPENS)

Hello.

- (DOOR CLOSES)
- Fine. Fine.

- I give in.
- I like that in a man.

(BOTH BREATHING HEAVILY)

(PETER MOANS)

- (WINDOW RATTLING)
- (JOANNA MOANING)

(BOTH MOANING)

Oh!

(JOANNA SCREAMING)

(GASPS)

PETER: I know. Sorry, I...

Don't worry, darling.
I'll take care of it.

Fuck.

(KNOCKING AT DOOR)

- So, good news. Joanna's gone.
- Gone. Left?

Yes. But not in a carriage.

I see. Shame.

- What happened?
- Do you really want the details?

Not really. What do
you need me to do?

Clean her room into
an abrupt departure.

(FOOTSTEPS RECEDING)

(SIGHS HEAVILY)

Hi.

I love that portrait.

Ah, yeah, we just
need to put his face in.

My mother left.

- We fought. In the night, she left.
- I'm sorry.

I suddenly saw
who she truly was.

We will be good parents.

Indeed. Better than
them, that's the main thing.

These are our graves?

I buried my mother. Seemed
a wasted hole otherwise.

Right. You okay?

- I don't need her anymore.
- Exactly how I feel.

This next bit will be
alarming. It is to me, but...

- Oh. Shit.
- Paul?