The Great (2020–…): Season 1, Episode 4 - Moscow Mule - full transcript

Huh.
And then my father died‐‐.

It looks like a bear, don't you think?

Hmm
Indeed, it does. Marvelous.

Mmm, it tastes like you.

What is it?

I am sorry, Emperor,
the news could not wait.

Overnight, the patriarch,
Bishop Ivan Illyich,

leader of our great
Russian Orthodox Church is dead, sir.

Right. Shit.

Are you crying?
I am not, Madam Dymov.

You look like you are.
I said I'm not!

Hmm.
I'm just commenting on my impression.

And I am refraining from commenting
on my impression.

Though you seem to enjoy my confessions.

He is being laid out in the chapel
for a blessing this day,

and immediately following,

the choosing of the new patriarch ritual
will take place.

Right. Go.

It's a nice old guy, the patriarch.

He was very close with my mother.

Should I suck your cock?
What?

Sometimes you like that
when you talk of your mother.

Not now. A kind thought, though. Thanks.

My mother used to bring him in
when I was a child

and asked him to stare into my eyes.

Why?
To see if I had a soul.

And?

He would tell her I did,
but he used to wink at me when he said it.

My mother used to say,

"God sees all. What must he make of you?"

If God sees all,
then we must put on a show.

Huh. You are bad.

As are you, my dear.

Huh.

I'm scared.

You must trust me.

What is it?

It is my own ingenious concoction.

Ginger beer, vodka, separate‐‐

two different things as they combine
in your mouth to a crescendo,

drop in a lime, which will give
it a kick and voilà.

Okay. Go.

Woo!

Mmm!
Mmm?

It's delicious!

Our own drink. Invented this day.

I know it's only ten,
but we should return to bed at once.

Ten? Oh, shit.

Ugh. I must go.

I have... duties and whatnot.

I command you, be in my bed,
naked and waiting when I return.

You! I need your mule.

This was our box.

We would come here, my father and I.

How is your father?

He remains a fucking idiot
who ruined my life.

But I believe he is healthy,

and enjoying life shoveling shit
in the stables

and fucking pox‐ridden maids.

Oh. I am winded.

Oh. These corsets are inhuman
at the best of times, but...

Sorry. I was...

We have left a gap for a description
of any sex acts

you would like to entertain us on.

Untrue. I, I have no need
to hear anything.

I was allowing your breath to return
so as to begin the business of the day.

I'm sorry.

Two things have happened.

The patriarch is dead,
and a new one must be named.

Peter will name him,
but we must have a dog in the fight.

Bishop Tarcinkus is our man.

For when you take power,
the church must back you

from a hundred‐thousand pulpits.

You need to meet him.

The second thing is to do with,
uh, the women,

and they have...

They have started a rumor,
Svenska and her gang.

A rumor?

That, uh, you were not a virgin
when you arrived.

You had, in fact, uh...

I'll just ask it. There's no other way.
Have you ever fucked a horse?

A what? No!

Well, I assumed not,
but it never hurts to ask.

Oh, my God.

They just neighed at me in the hall.

I was riding a mule,
I thought that was why.

You must win them back, and quickly.

Rumors spread and become fact.

No one will believe that.
The rumor is a symptom.

You are a foreigner who has made
a bad initial impression at court.

The women will drip poison
in the ears of the men,

and your reputation will never recover.

And we need the men in the court.

How would one even fuck a horse?

I can't explain it, but I could draw it.

I'm sorry. In avenging me,
you have suffered.

You may have to slap me down
in front of them.

You mean put you in your place?

I mean literally slap me to the floor.

I will not do that.

But I will make peace with her.

It is done now, this tit for tat.

I will win them back.

Everyone likes me, always have.

As ever, your confidence is
an inspiration.

Vlad likes me. Don't you, Vlad?
I...

Yes, Empress.

What are you reading, Vlad?
Triangles.

Triangles. Hmm. That's fun.

Isosceles is particularly good.
Yes.

Uh, the emperor is, is waiting.

Where the fuck have you been?
Apologies.

You have duties. We have duties.
We must wave the troops off.

Fuck them up!

Huzzah.

My spies tell me
you have kept Leo as your lover.

I did.

So?

So?
"Thank you, husband.

"You were right after all,
with your impeccable judgment,

good looks, and massive cock."

Thank you, husband.
You were right after all,

with your impeccable "fudgement,"
good socks, and massive clock.

Is that it?

No, it was... Close enough.

Don't fall in love with him
or I'll bust his head open with a bat.

It is a pleasant diversion, that is all.

We will still make an heir,
I'd do it now,

but I just blew my bag on Madam Dymov.

Mm.

My God.

A phrase I have never heard.

The bishops assemble, sir.

Why?
To pick a new patriarch.

It is tradition to name a new one
the following day.

And important to stop the regions

sending their representatives
to court to lobby their men.

Twenty years ago,
it led to much bloodshed.

I remember. Or was told or...

These eggs need salt
or salmon or something.

Fuck off. I'll be in.

Is it true we exist before we are born?

What did you say?

Is‐I am emperor, ordained by God.

So he must have known me
before I existed, I assume.

I see.
And he sees everything.

But I am emperor by divine right, so...

there's that.

If I could be of assistance
to you, Emperor?

A, a woman pick the patriarch?

Huzzah.

You have cheered me. You are sweet.

Lady Svenska?

Have you been crying?

At first sign of spring,
my allergies act up.

Your husband is leaving.
Indeed. Huzzah.

I feel we may have got off
on the wrong foot.

Really? How so?
The dress thing,

some general disdain on my part,
you beating my servant.

I must confess, I do not know
to what you refer.

You are our empress
and we are all blessed by it.

Right.

For even if we thought you were
a vicious cunt filled with arrogance,

who fucked a horse before she arrived,
we would still respect you as our empress.

I never fucked a horse!

Do not fluster.
No good Christian will believe it.

You have our respect, Empress.

Well?

She's oddly impervious to my charms.

What's the hold she has
over the other women?

Well, she's very rich,
from one of the best families in Russia.

And some owe her money.

And she showers them all with gifts,
attention, and fun.

Well, I'm rich,
and all the other things, and more.

If we cannot win Svenska,

perhaps we can peel the women off her.

Empress, we have pressing business.

Indeed. I now recall that.

Count Voronsky.

Count Orlo. Good day, sir.
Empress.

Bishop Tarcinkus is here.
You should meet him.

Orlo, unfortunately the pressures
on her time are great today.

I shall be the judge
of the pressures on my day.

Indeed. I am your humble servant.

I shall away.

- Did he just bite you?
- He did.

I felt it a little inside myself.

I do not wish to be annoying,
but to do this...

Coup will take utter focus.

I am focused, Orlo,

but I must deal with
the count's insolence first.

I do not understand
this scattered approach.

Do you really not understand?

I will now need to check you for a cock.

Oh! Are you actually backing away?

Wow.

What is "wow"?

I don't know.

It is a word that came to me.

It is right, I think.

You all right?
I've enjoyed our time together.

You may go.

And when shall I return?

At my pleasure.

Speak no more, depart at once.

Empress.
Do not...

...argue with me.

Are you all right?

Of course.
It's a sad day for our nation.

He was a father to you,
as you were to me.

I feel a hole ripped in the earth...

that may swallow me.

As I felt when Mother died.

But you grabbed my hand
and the hole did not swallow me.

You were eight.
Loss is loss.

I must, uh... see to my duties.

Thank you.

No one has seen him since breakfast.

Go. I'll find him.

They're looking for you.

Of course.
The patriarch.

That old fuck, staring in your eyes.

Why I've avoided him for years.

And I've fucking given them everything.

Why can't they choose
their own fucking person?

You don't want that.
You need to choose.

The church must be controlled.

Come on, it'll be fun. I'll come.

It'll be like, uh...

when we interviewed those
French courtesans with your dad

for who would be your first.

Yes, it was good to be 11, wasn't it?

Happy days.

Come on.

Ah. He's excited.

They can be funny about women,
some of them,

so, uh, he, he won't speak to you
or look you directly in the eye.

You may pass by and get on your knees
and he will bless you.

He will not speak to me?
How could he be a good choice for us?

He is aligned with some of our views.

One of my views is
that women are humans,

he does not seem aligned with that.

No, he is. He is. Just... they are old.

We need to do this.

Hello.

How are you today?

Bless this maiden.

Oh.

Lovely meeting you.

Trust me.

I do, obviously.

Here is a list of the candidates.

Aren't you staying?

I cannot join you, sir.
I am junior to these men.

Oh, such a shame,
only candidates are present.

However, I'll be with you
every step of the way, Emperor,

to facilitate the ritual.

God will give the emperor a sign,
he will feel it.

He does not need‐‐
Rational thought applied to it?

The emperor may question them
to ascertain their holiness

and their love and loyalty to him.

That's good. I'm judging them.
Of course.

Exactly.
Oh, Grigor, we are in the middle of‐‐.

Shut up, Orlo.
The emperor's asked for my help.

For instance, how are
we going to tell them apart?

Next, can we have the old bearded man
who smells of moldy crotch and incense?

Brilliant.

Grigor will help make it a jape.

It is not a... jape.

It needs to be taken seriously.

It is God's representative on Earth.

I am well aware of the fucking import,
Archie.

Right. Where shall we start?

I suggest order by beard length.

Rich. That's rich.

This is a good and holy man.

Right. Do we want that?

We want someone who loves you.
Hmm.

Emperor Peter, I am
Pavel Lopov Tarcinkus of Mogilyov.

Your loyalty to the emperor

is as strong as your bond with God,
is it not?

That seems a good question.

It is an unbreakable bond.

You are God, God is you, God is love.

Huh. I like this guy.

Emperor, I am
Herman Aleksy Leontius of Vilna.

And I believe you to be
the greatest leader Russia has ever seen.

He seems like a strong possibility, too.

I would be honored to serve under you,

at the feet of God himself.

I like this guy.

I do not claim to be
good enough for this office.

I know only one thing.

This emperor is a man
who brings us to destruction,

amoral, devil‐worshiping...

a fornicator,

a man to be turned on by the church

and denounced from every pulpit
in the land

as a soulless heretic.

You fucking‐‐

I commit myself to the flames
of God's love...

and leave this place to its inequity!

Jesus.

How dare he speak to me like that?

Take some snuff, it's in the nostrils.

It is why we must be sure
you are supported and loved.

It is a danger we have just seen
if the church denounce you.

It would be grossly unfair,
and fucking dangerous.

Archie, what the fuck?
Why was he on the list?

It was voted on by the synod.

He is a troubled man.
I had no idea he was this‐‐.

How do I know
they don't all think like that?

That is the danger of the wrong choice‐‐
they turn on the emperor.

That's why I think Bishop Tarcinkus
would be a good choice.

Which one was he?
Old guy, gray beard, not on fire.

You're not helpful, Grigor.

It's not at all my place
to advise on this,

but obviously you would have seen
Kerlov as a strong candidate.

He preaches hate and fear.
Yes, fear.

You cannot hold Russia without it.

It's a lever in the emperor's hand
the church happily wields for him.

Yes, I have made a decision.

I'll start with a beer, move on to vodka,

and then eat some pussy for dessert.

Grigor, let's go.

It is not your place to advise on this.

Why do you care who it is so much?

I desire Russia's goodness.

I do not wish someone who will
take us back to the Dark Ages.

Mm. You lie so well, Orlo.

From one so accomplished,
the greatest of compliments.

Oh.

Such a burning love for God.

One can love too much.

These are pretty things.

As are you, Vlad.

The empress.

Oh, Empress.

I saw it and thought of you.

It is delightful.

I'm sorry about my children.

Boris is sick and they are...

just crazy!

They are delightful.

It is so elegant.

A lovely color.

I saw it and it made me
think of you in your elegance.

Thank you.

They are made of Georgian gold,

and I wished you to have one
the minute I saw them.

You should not beg like this.
What?

You are the empress.
Status is everything.

I wish to be their friend.

Aren't you sweet?
And don't they love to eat sweet things.

Thanks for the egg.

You will not become
actual friends with them, will you?

I could not bear it.

You are my first friend here,

my true friend, nothing shall shake that.

Excuse me.

Good day.

Join me at midnight in my apartments.

I will not be at your or anyone's whim.

Of course, Empress.

However, I often go walking at night,

so I may be there, coincidentally,
or I may not.

I do so enjoy
the length of these hallways.

Oh. I've not been in here
since your father had an orgy one night,

and a man put a carrot in my asshole.

Emperor. Yes.
My old family apartments.

It's been a few years,
but I am to stay awhile.

What are you doing?

I like trees. I am used to seeing them
from my bed at home.

The aspect of these windows
do not allow it, so I'm planting one.

Odd, but okay.

You are officially the empress' lover.

I released you, but she kept you.

You released me?

She was to tell you. She did not?

She is a witch.

Two things. Welcome to court.

You're one of us now.

Huzzah.

Ah, Grigor. He's planting trees.

- He's a curious one.
- Mm.

He also seems unwell.

Oh, I hit him quite hard.
Give him a drink.

Let us sit in this indoor forest
and drink together.

A man should be friends
with his wife's lover.

My father taught me,

it is the only way things go well
and do not end in bloodshed.

Grigor, do you agree?
Indeed.

See, Grigor and I love each other.

This morning, I ate a fig
out of his wife's pussy,

and here we are.
What?

It is a bond unbreakable.
Leo, we shall be friends.

My honor, sir.

What is this?

A plum. P‐L‐U‐M.

Mm. Your reading goes well.

Count Leo Voronsky requests admittance.

I know you're busy,
so I'll keep this brief.

Go on.

That was it.

What was it?

I was lying in my bed,
thinking of you,

how exquisite you are,

and I began to think
my mind was exaggerating it.

And was it?
A little, yes, but not much.

I came to see you last night,

and found you with Peter, in a fruit fest.

Ah. He wishes for us to be friends.

I must be friends.

You are good at this game,
pretending.

I suppose I am.

So how can I believe you?

That you are‐‐ True with you?

I suppose you only have
your instincts on it.

I am something of a romantic.

My fear is that you will‐‐.

Break your heart.

Were I to fall for you, that is.

Which you have not.

Not at all.

You were a pleasure I decided to take
to slake my curiosity.

You have a ruthless side,

it makes my blood rush around a little.

You are complicating me.
And you me.

Seeing you with Peter.

Am I a fool?

I can be.
We all can be.

Being with you, I've made myself
a part of his world.

Mercurial as he is,

delightful but unknown as you are,

I am aware I invite trouble
into my otherwise easy life.

And usually all I like to invite
is guests for drinks

and a wander in the estate woods.

Do not charm me so relentlessly.

I have fallen for you.

So...

I'm fucked.

I have decided to embrace it.

If you wish to toss me aside now,

you will break a large piece of me inside,

but I would be free
to escape to my estate,

and in time, I'd perhaps mend.

You'd do me a brutal favor
if you did, so...

Choose?

Choose.

I...

You may go.

For the moment.

I'm...

will think.

Daddy loved gambling.

I once awoke to him
chopping off my pigtails

because he'd lost them
to the creepy footman.

Mm.

The worst part was him losing
the fucking vineyards,

and now we have to pay
for this delicious wine.

It is delicious. Mm.

Mm.

Shh! Shh!

Ahem. The bishops assemble, sir.

We must decide today.

We are eating oysters, for fuck's sakes.

Must you interrupt? Get out!

So rude!

Mm.
How's it going?

Badly. God should really give me a sign.

Lazy fucker.

Me?

God!

Oh.
Well, both of you, really.

Why don't they just kill them all
and instate me?

I look good in black and I'm under
a hundred, it'll be refreshing for all.

That's a brilliant idea. Well done.
Thank you.

No. What I said. A fucking sign.

Why must I do all the work?

For you.

This is from Svenska.

She's invited me to a tea dance this day.

Someone realizes she needs to make peace.

Hmm.

Thank you for your beautiful gift.

Give the empress some air.
You will crush her.

Sit, my dear.

Thank you.

And for the invitation.

Your gift was beautiful.
You have exquisite taste.

I always think that of you.

I try, as there isn't
much else to do here.

How is your lover?

Oh, yes. Do tell.

His father was astonishing.

He was my first.

Lay Leo on a dish for us, Empress.

We wish to know you.

It's... it's a private thing.

Of course.

Shall we dance?

Hmm.

Dear Catherine, are you all right?

We get caught up in the music.

And you are new to the dance.

It is a very precise thing.

If you are not right place, right time,

and it tune with your partner,
it is a dangerous thing.

Oh. No, I'm fine.

Oh. That is my nose blood.

Let us applaud the empress
for her bravery.

Show her our respect.

The empress.

I could tell my husband what you did.

There are plates of food
your husband likes better than you.

You are nothing but a tolerated womb.

We will never disrespect you
in front of him,

but you will do well to know your place
in regard to me and my ladies.

Do not attempt to take them
from me again...

horse fucker.

What's happened?

A tea dance.

Are you all right?

It is unbearable, this place.

Fuck!

Cry.

I can feel it in you.

I... I miss home.

What else?

I hate everyone.

What else?

I don't like eating moose lips,

but everyone's always going on about them.

Disgusting stuff.

Like a storm departing your body.

To cry is very Russian.

It is salty and vodka‐laced usually.

What of politics?

You never even speak of it.

What needs to be said
of throwing your life at a brick wall

until the wall is still there,

but you're bones and mush in a skin bag?

Change is possible.

When I was 12,

the war edged its way toward us.

Suddenly men appeared in our wheat fields.

The whole of the land was lost
in a blue smoke

with shapes like ghosts shifting amid it.

But then the fighting stopped.

Rain came and washed the blood away.

We replanted.

The wheat grew back.

And as my father and I
walked through the field again,

he asked me,

"Who won?"

So nothing matters?

We'll all be dust.

I will be happy dust.

So your happiness is a political stand?

Indeed it is.
And I will not resile from it.

Shall we have another?

I do not know whether I...

admire it or despise it.

Neither do I,
so I suggest you do neither.

Merely enjoy me.

Maybe... lick me a little.

If you feel like it.

Hmm.

You know, I'm sorry,
but I cannot let you go.

I never thought being doomed
would feel so pleasant.

Archie,
you still have your visions

and communications with God?

Uh, they come to me
under certain conditions.

Or he says they do.

I am blessed to have
a connection with our Lord.

It's so unusual,
I understand your disbelief,

for your faith and imagination
are pedestrian.

He just said, "Fuck you,"
if you did not get that, Orlo.

I did, sir.
Great. So, my idea.

Do your vision. Ask God who I should pick.

What? No. No.
No?

What the fuck are you talking for?

I will pull out your tongue and eat it
with a nice salsa verde if it moves again.

It does not really work like that.

God‐‐
Tell him I'm fucking asking.

I am ordained by God,

so he needs to play handball
with me on this

if he doesn't want it all fucked up
by a wrong choice.

Of course. I will see if I can
create the conditions for a vision.

Fuck me.
Did you just speak?

C... D...

E... F...

He has sent Archie... G...

to commune with God.

God will show Archie a sign,

and he will pick the patriarch
and inform Peter.

He fucking has whoever he wants.

Lying, disingenuous prick.
Ow!

Marial!

He is a good man,
and a holy man in his heart.

He is your friend and cousin.
You are biased.

He is a political animal,

always protecting the power
and wealth of the church.

He is a bishop,
that is what you would call his job.

As it is your job to be an annoying,
un‐fucked insect.

Marial, take a breath.

Orlo, if he is a political animal,

he can be reasoned with.

He does at least speak to women,

so he has one up on our man, anyway.

You have done deals in the past.

Yes.

So, push him toward our man.

I could talk to him.

And he'll wonder why a woman
cares about the patriarch

and tip our hand.

It is my job.

The patriarch affects the women, too.

Just ask my nanny,

who got pregnant out of wedlock,

and they fucking killed her
in her village

at the priest's behest!

Orlo is wrong.

Archie is a good man.

I never got over the fingering,
to be honest.

He had to do that.

It is his role and duty.

When my mother died,

and my father clutched a bottle
and a whore to his breast

instead of his young children,

he took care of me,
and my sister, every day.

He has a hard head for politics,
but trust me, a good heart.

Leaving the bony fingers aside.

Archie.

Orlo.

Can we talk about who the patriarch
should be?

Always with the politics, Orlo.
What a small world you live in.

Everything is politics, Archie.
That just means your price is high.

You are going to have a vision,

and lo and behold, it will be Kerlov.

I feel sorry for you
that you think that.

That's the problem with your philosophy.

You aggrandize the individual,

think we're not part of something bigger.

It's a barren wasteland of aloneness

that you try to push us towards.

God enfolds us.

His love enfolds us.

And right now your bullshit
enfolds me.

Any warmth I can bring, my friend.

Let us work out
who suits us both best.

All I ask.

I'm God's servant, not yours.

No politics.

He directs me.

Tarcinkus is a good man,

all I wanted to say,

a man we can both work with.

He has no real opinions.

Shit.

"Now here, now there",

"the roving fancy flies,

"till some loved object
strikes her wandering eyes,

"whose silken fetters
all the senses bind,

and soft captivity involves the mind."

Hello.

The women.

Ah, yes.

I heard a tea dance got out of hand.

They hate me.

Well, you did stripe Svenska
most marvelously.

But her surface is what matters to her,

and you scratched it hard.

I want them to like me.

Why? They are dreary.

All you need to do
is be respected by them

and show responsibility for them.

Show responsibility?

You are the only voice the women have.

But I do not have a voice.
You must grow one.

As you will grow an heir
in your bright, shiny womb.

Oh, wait.

What are these?

Inspiration

and education.

Is it physically possible?

I thought not,

but as long as you have
someone to brace you,

that one is excellent.

Though painful for a few days after.

You're intrigued.

They fire something in me.

Hmm.

Which brings me to this horse story.

I wanted to, but the horse said no,
and neigh means neigh.

You are a delight.

We are all animals, so I would not
judge it harshly if you had.

I once saw a deer so beautiful,

I leant against a tree
with my dress raised,

hoping it would mount me.

Anyways,

the ladies.

You may have to slap Marial down.

That's what she said.

Wise girl.

You cannot choose a servant
over a lady. It will not do.

I will not.

Just like that. See?

It is not easy being empress,

but you can do it.

Now, I have these sticks from Asia.

They are to enhance your fertility,

but I cannot work out
whether we wave them over your womb

or insert them into you.

I'm pretty sure it's
a "wave them" situation.

Are you all right?

You shimmer...

with radiance.

Are you an angel?

Some have said it.

Guidance. Thank you for coming.

Apparently, you have a good heart
under those dark clothes.

I do.

You could help Russia.

It is awry.

I wish nothing else.

Who should it be, the patriarch?

Guidance is sought.

Perhaps it is you.

Me?

But I'm not...

worthy.

You see women.

You are smart.

You can bring Russia right,

through your heart,
and through faith and change.

Okay. Good.

Bye.

Emperor, I must make an impassioned plea

for you to just choose
Bishop Pavel Lopov Tarcinkus.

He is of fair, wise mind,

and if you sit with him
and sip vodka a minute,

you will see he is of tender heart,
and the perfect choice.

I suppose I could. Does he like me?

Of course! He‐He loves you.

Emperor! A sign!

God sent me an angel.

He does look completely strange.

His eyes. And he's‐he's shaking.

Sir‐‐
PETER: God sent a vision?

What does he say? Who does he want?

Emperor, allow me to present...

myself!

Yourself?

As the patriarch!

It's what He wants, for me to rise,

and help you make Russia great.

Did the angel talk about me?

Not directly.
Of course he can't.

It's totally against the rules.
He's not old enough.

Not a senior member of the synod‐‐
Shut up.

We can deal with that.

Archie.

Look into my eyes.

Tell me what you see.

The soul of a king!

So.

Tell me of your lives here.

All is bliss in the court of Peter.

Of course life is bliss here,

but if tiny improvements could be made,

and I could help you as empress,

that would gladden my heart to be a friend
and a use to you all.

Why don't you stop the war?

I will note it down.

But it is probably
beyond me at this point.

Maybe more immediate things.

Well, the carriages are always
in disrepair.

They do not fix them fast enough.

I see. I shall look into it.

How is your son, Tatyana?
Boris. He was unwell.

Fucking Chekhov saw him, but...

We need better doctors than the Chekhovs.

Boris coughs blood, and the fool
puts leeches on his throat.

I do not know doctoring,
but it seems ridiculous.

And my dearest Boris gets sicker.

He basically killed Raisa.
Exactly.

Indeed.
We must have the most modern medicine.

We shall bring a new doctor from France.

What a friend you are to us.

How is Leo?

He makes my skin tingle

and my heart gladden.

Surely more detail than that.

If you really are our friend,
we will need you to open up to us,

if it is true,
and we are to feel you love us.

Shut up, whore.

She cannot‐‐ Apologize.

I will see to her later.

Go back to your quarters, Marial.

Neeeeigh!

Do not ever do that.

That goes for all of you. Am I heard?

I have spoken to my husband on this,

and he sees it as a sleight on him.

If it is heard again,
no matter what family, what wealth,

they will be a servant,
stripped of everything,

and we will slap the shit out of them
on a daily basis.

Am I heard?

Marial, wipe the blood from your nose.

Pour me wine.

Now, other things you ladies need from me?

Lady Svenska, can I help you in any way?

No, Empress. I am satisfied.

Mm. Marvelous.

Good day, then.

Empress, I think you may be a natural,
well done.

Thank you. Amazing party.
Oh.

You seem to live by your own rules.

It helps they think I'm mad.

A new patriarch. Huzzah!

Huzzah!

This is a terrible mistake.

Do not worry.

All is bliss in the court
of Catherine the Great.

Oh, to the empress.

She is finding her feet here,
and her fists.

Huzzah!

Apparently she fucked a horse
before she got here.

Huzzah.
For I am all for fucking,

and after Archie blesses us,
we will all begin.

Huzzah!

What else can one have faith in
but love?

I thought it was an answer.

I now realize it is a question.

Pick one.