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02x10 - Wedding

Posted: 11/22/21 08:36
by bunniefuu

That was...

quite something.

My mind felt as if I had been transported
to an altogether different place.


An Italian forest...


...but it was a hundred years ago.

It was incredible.

We are in sweaty agreement.

I have women's things.

Toosh and touché both.

I will come and see
you and Paul before I go.

It is a mad plan.

You mean genius.

Possibly both, definitely one.

I'll take it as a compliment.

Have fun running Russia.


I didn't see anything.

What are you doing here?

God abandoned me, I drank heavily,
woke up here.

Air was thick with the scent of love.

Heard you cry something along the lines
of "Never stop f*cking me,"

so did not wish to disturb
so just stayed lying on the ground.

Polite of you.

Manners are everything.

You and Peter.

The world is off its axis.

I think it's actually finally on.

God abandoned you?

I probably deserved it.

You've always had such faith.

How will you lead your church
if you don't believe in it?

It's a definite problem.

I am going to meet the Sultan
and end the w*r.

Seems a big day.

- You're a savvy player.
I could do with it, come with me.

I'm a savvy player when I work for God,
as I serve something beyond myself.

Serve me then.

I'd like to,
but I am unraveled in every way.

I just need to lie down...

have a drink.

Read the Bible.

Whipping sometimes helps...

Hey, Catherine!

Wow, big room.

Chunky furniture.

I love how... stolid you guys are.


Just checking in on how you're
feeling about invading Sweden?

I am ending a w*r, not starting another.

It's over, Hugo, but you are welcome
to stay as long as you like.

Oh. Macaroon?
They're for the troops.


Hello, court, say hello to Paul.

Hello, Paul.

They're actually together.

Mm-hmm. It's a f*cking horror.

f*ck me.

- What's wrong?
- What the f*ck happened?

He was supposed to be d*ad.

Couped. And now they're together?
It's a nightmare.

- Here's the menu plan for the wedding.
I trust you like it.

We can't just have ice cream, Maxim.


Leave it with me.

I don't think you should be judging
other people's relationships.

Any luck?

She made me eat a macaroon
that tasted like burnt dog.

And said no?

- Ah, Hugo!
- There he is!

Why is he wearing his child?

- It's disgusting.
You never touched our children.

- Why would I?
- Paul is eating foie gras!


Look. Mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm.

- Some for you.
- Oooh!

Mmm! Mm-mm-mm-mm.

And some more for you. Oooh.

- He's such a good dad.
- Is he?

And when Paul says, "What was
Grandma like?" what's he say?

"She was a good f*ck actually,
shame I k*lled her"?

He's changed. Look at him.

Oh, hungry little bear. Yum!

Where are you going?

- Nowhere. I'll see you later.
- You're going to go tell her.

Tell my best friend that her husband
f*cked her mother and then k*lled her?

- Why would I do that?
- Yes, why would you?

Because you wouldn't be that dumb,
because that would blow the world up.

And truth is the world
is pretty f*cking nice right now

if we can all just let the past go.


And if you did, she would have to k*ll
him and then I would have to k*ll you.

All in all, I think there
would be a lot of k*lling.

But if you don't...

you have a nice wedding
with a lot of ice cream...

and we all just live happily ever after.

Sounds good.


Okay, okay, I love ice cream.

Horrifically I also love you, so...

And I you.

- You are shining, my dear.
I watched for a bit and it was...

You too?!

I won't watch again,
unless it's requested.


Oh! Disgusting.

- Tomato and sage.
They're experimenting again.

And do you have a message for the troops?

I'm actually coming with you.

The Sultan has responded
and will meet me.

I will end this thing.

You are a wonder.

I am happy.

I have recalibrated
my heart to its truth.

And now I will go recalibrate
my reign to the same.

You look stunning,
as the cliché goes.

I thought you'd gone.

- I leave in an hour.
I had to see you.

You, a married woman.

I promise I will be back in time.

Right, well,
I hope the w*r negotiations go well.

You should get going.

I got lost in an Italian forest
this morning,

while Peter and I were f*cking.

A forest you say?

It was astonishing,

and then when I came back
and opened my eyes and saw him,

I melted, Marial.

Great story.

I f*cking love him.

I hope you and Maxim
find similar happiness.

Without the f*cking,
as he is eight and that is wrong.

- Well aware. Thank you.
You should go.

It is better than I imagined
this would ever feel.

It's like my body
can barely contain the feeling.

It's like... like I'm bursting
all the time.

It's just... different.

More complex in a way,

more fabulously complicated,
as we both are that.

But we recognize it in each other and wrap
our arms around our complexities.

Let me just take a deep breath here.

- Oh. Dress tight?
- Mm-hmm.

Something like that.

Do you really think he's changed?

People's nature is people's nature.

I'm a bit of a b*tch, always will be.

He's a monster, always will be.

You need to be wary, all I'm saying.

I don't.

I know him.

I have changed him,

and Peter's my great love.

Guess that's why he f*cked
and k*lled your mother.



Paul and I were just thinking.


we want to come with you.

Because what is the most unbearable
thing in the world to the three of us?

Hmm? To be apart.


- I don't think...
- Please, Mummy.

Can you... Give him to me.

I think he's hungry.

I crushed up some apple
and walnut into a paste.


The Sultan is a mad c**t
who will not see reason

except when it is on the end
of a Kn*fe shoved into his eyeball.

A figure of speech, of course.
I would never do that.

You can take one person with you.
Choose me.

I will come and protect you.


You just... stay here with Paul.

You will miss us.


- Are you all right?
You've been very quiet.

I have something important to do.

Of course.

Go gentle with Velementov.

A man's ego is a tender thing
and you need him with you...

I do not need yet another schooling
from you, it is tedious.

I'm just trying to help.

Are you actually still
moving your mouth?

- Catherine...
- Go and hand out your macaroons.


What the f...

The Sultan has agreed to meet
in the borderlands.

- What?
- I have a genius plan that I will pitch to him.

I am on the cusp of complete victory!

My casualty lists tell me,
even if we win, we do not win.

We spoke their language, Velementov.

They get that we can,

and you have done a great job at proving
how pointless and bloody that is.

Now I come in, end it,

and we go do what I was born to do.

God forbid that we are
anything but your puppets.

We meet him tomorrow.

I'm going to get a drink.

Ten in the morning!


Hmm. Very great.

You couldn't look at me, it seemed.


No, sometimes a woman has
to concentrate to get to the place.


And probably the wedding dress
made it weird.

It's kind of like I'm cheating on Maxim.
I mean, obviously I'm not.

I just... I'm hot in this dress.

f*ck. Do you want water?
I need water.

I probably should go.

It's your apartment.


I'll go.




Do you want to go in?


Look at that face.

- Go away.
- I did.

Now I'm back.

Grigor, what's wrong?

- I...
- Realized how dull it is f*cking Marial?


- Just tell me.
You always feel better.

We're still husband and wife.

- Leave me alone.
- I love you too much for that.

Grigor, let us hunt.

Grigor has a secret.

- Secret, eh, Grigor?
- What the f*ck, George?

Oh, was the fact
that you had a secret a secret?

Oops. We're not really
back in sync are we?

- I love it.
Grigor can keep nothing from me.

- Can we just drop it?
- Where's the fun in that?

Peter, get him like you used to,
he would tell you anything.

It's nothing.

Tell me or I will wrap your own neck
in your underpant

as I did when you were nine
and you were in a coma for three days.

- Are you f*cking crying?
- What the f*ck is it?


f*ck it. Let the world end.

She knows about her mother.

What about her mother?

Okay. Okay.

Okay. I have blood rushing in my head.
Can anyone else hear it?

- f*ck.
- f*ck indeed.

- How?
- Marial.

She doesn't know I know,
so we have some advantage.

I have a world in f*cking ashes,
Grigor, that is what I have.

- What do we do?
- Well, first we k*ll Marial, that seems a given.

What did he do to Mum?

I'm not having strudel
for a wedding cake, Maxim.

Raspberry cake in the shape of a dog?


Peter! Don't touch her!

What the f*ck?

- You told her.
- sh*t. How?

- I saw it on your face.
- I wasn't even looking at you.

Fine. f*cking k*ll me, I don't care.
She needed to know.

Was she all right?

What? No, she wasn't all right.

You f*cked and k*lled her mother.

That's my boy!

I didn't k*ll her.

- Oh, sh*t, are you crying?
Why is everybody crying?

Yes, I'm crying.

I have crushed my wife's heart
like a mouse in a beaver's throat!

Stripped her of breath, of hope.

f*ck! She must be shattered.

Maybe you have changed.

- Jesus, Marial, I told you he had!
And I told you the consequences.

Everyone f*cking dies now.

Everyone could've been happy
and now you've f*cked everything up!

You know why?
Because you can't be an optimist.

You can't just f*cking believe
love is real.

Okay, you're very close
to yelling at me right now.

Because you f*cked everything up!

I didn't f*ck it up, he did.


Congratulations on the wedding,
by the way.

Ah! You two have been married
a long time.

You know about what it takes
to have a long, successful marriage.

Forgiveness is a big part of it, right?

- Do you think she can forgive me?
- For what?

Catherine knows I f*cked
and very accidentally k*lled her mother!

Kids, go in the other room.

Well, we haven't quite been
in this position, exactly.

You f*cked her mother?

f*ck off, you eavesdropping Swede.

He's back!

Tell me you f*cked her in the face.
Of course you did, why did I even ask?


Crowns off, as they say.

- We really owe you an apology.
We thought you'd become such a p*ssy.

I f*cked her mother!

That's not good!
I hate myself for it.

- What are we going to do?
- Uh...

I think a furious heartfelt denial
is the way to go.

She will send people to Germany to check
and then it's clear Joanna never returned.


I mean, good, let's find all the holes
in each plan and fill them.

Got it! I convince Marial to retract,
then we dig Joanna up and...

Terrible so far, but I'm a listening
type person now so keep going.

And we crash
a carriage deep in the forest,

put her body in the carriage,
pretend she crashed and was not found.

That's actually good.

How do you explain her decomposed body?

We set wolves on the body,
tear it apart.

- Is this who helped you run your empire?
- Agnes, play nice.

Marial told her,
and she came to see me afterwards.

She didn't k*ll me then.

So maybe she didn't love her mum
as much as we thought,

or maybe our love is
so all-powerful, which it is for me.

She was in shock, which is why
she did not act immediately.

She will gather herself while away
and come back and k*ll you.

We all know it.

It's simple.
You have to k*ll her first.

I feel like champagne.
Anyone else?

- Hi.
- What are you doing?

I was hungry.

You know how I get.

You do get hungry.


I just ate something I shouldn't have.

Some things are off limits.

You get hungry too.

Just for different things.

Russia. Art. Education.

- You can't just eat everything.
There'll be nothing left of us.

You know you won't be able
to k*ll me, you never can.

I have to though.

That won't do it.

It will if you decide it will.

You taste like whale.

Everything's salty.

Why is everything salty?




Guilty as charged.

It's bad, really bad.

Archie says the quality of mercy
is not strained, however.

Archie f*ck himself with a turnip.


I'm going to k*ll you so, so slowly,

very painfully,

and I'm going to say a lot
of French words in a perfect accent

as I peel your skin from your body
and rub your flesh in rosemary salt.

I can't stop loving you
when you talk, it rushes me.

You did stop loving me,
to f*ck my mother.

Seven bad minutes.

But don't all marriages have challenges?

It's not love what you did.

No, it's cowardice.

You know, I never knew the difference
between cowardice and courage until you.

Are you trying to flatter me?

Don't k*ll me.

You were this close to having it all.

I don't think you'll respect me
if I don't k*ll you.

You won't love me if I don't k*ll you.

Can I beg to differ?


I don't want to k*ll you.

You already did.

It's my turn.

I'm sure there's a way.

I love that you think that.


In case you can't see,
I am in the middle of f*cking this solider

while he is being slightly
asphyxiated by a macaroon.

In other words... I am busy.

Unless you came to explain yourself.

I know what Peter did.

And I know you knew and helped him.

I need you to take a message home.

Do you want to finish?

Sweet, but no, I'm done.

- Hello.
- Ah, Orlo, it's the Empress.

- Velementov, it's time.
- In some ways, I wish I was there.

Just to see his face
when he hears the plan.

- He will be waiting for me.
Will you come?

Do you know how you become the Sultan?

All the sons of the harem
grow up together,

knowing they must k*ll
all the others or be k*lled.

There were only 16 of them.

- Oh, if he looks at your ears.
- Oh, yeah.

Change strategy....
He's about to cut them off.

I'm asking you to come with me.

Fine. I will go alone.

I await news of your death
with something approaching relief.

That was rough.

Have to, to get through to her.

And she can't go if no one goes with her.


I left my purse in my tent,
if you wish to steal it.

I'm sorry, but this is crazy.

I'm not mad at you
for stealing some money.

I don't care about the money.
It was what it meant.

It meant you did not believe
we would change things.

For it said, "I, Orlo, " who cut his hand
in a sacred oath with me, "was lying,

"for I actually believe in the old ways:
Corruption, largesse,

old men in dark rooms
deciding who gets what and how."

- You still can't go the Sultan.
- Why not?

- Because it's not going to work.
- How do you know, Orlo?

That is what I mean.

Uncap your imagination,
your courage, for f*ck's sake.

Catherine, it's dangerous.

I am a person who has come into
this world to do dangerous things, Orlo.

- There is another way.
- And you can all think I am mad.

I think your fear is mad.

Your idea you can knock down the house
and rebuild a new one

without breaking anything is mad.

Your aim is right
but your strategy is wrong.

I need people who believe
and carry me when I need it,

not drag at my f*cking heels
when I'm trying to run.

- You, what's your name?
- Alex.

Let's go.


No wonder Peter is c**t struck.

I gather that's a compliment.

It is.

You may sit.

I heard a story about you.

You actually had to k*ll
your own brothers to become Sultan.

I have a lot of sisters.

Some of them I would have
liked to have k*lled.

But in metaphor only.

What you had to do, that is terrible.

It is so sad to me.

I imagine you have been
to very dark places.

It's funny you mention it

'cause this morning I was crying
about my brother Nephiz.

We used to go swimming every day
and laugh and talk about everything.

And he was so adorable and he told
the funniest stories of anyone.

And then his face when I...

I mean f*ck.

Gimme a second.


You miss him.


"It is what it is," as they say.

A necessary evil.

Why was it necessary?

You couldn't have
worked it out differently?

- The way of things.
- It does not have to be.

It relates
to our political situation as well.

Maybe the only thing you should take
from the story is that I am your opponent

and I will not stop
until I get what I want.


What I take from this story is that

the idea we have to destroy each other
to gain is dumb and destructive.

Did you just call me dumb?

I merely asked a question.

How shall we rule?

I have a lot of ideas
of how the world should be.

Too many, I suspect.

And you rule by accepting how it is,
too much I suspect.

Can we sit
and solve this conundrum together

and be the two who made something new?

If I can keep looking
into your eyes, we can.

You may.


I've drawn up the new border
of our countries for us to end this w*r.

And this is all I will agree to.

See, this is very old fashioned.

Drawing lines on a map.

k*lling a lot of people.

I push back, k*ll more people.

We draw another line on the map.

We will share the region,
create an experimental zone

for a range of progressive ideas
and industries

and be a beacon
of peaceful revolution across Europe.

You talk a lot, don't you?

I love it.



I'll use a different Kn*fe
for your ears.

It's curved,
easier to slice straight through.

They'll be on a single chain
as they deserve.

Are you all right?

He looked at my ears.

We probably should go.


Thank you.

Of course.

Ladies. I am in a period of reflection...

Archie, be ready to throw
the church's weight behind Peter.

She is done.
He's taking it back.

But I still have the scent of their sex
in my nostrils.

It was actually rather giddying.

- This is happening, Archie.
Be on the right side.

My theory is that she's a witch.

Before she came,
everyone was f*cking happy.

Are you staring at my breasts?

I really am.

All we wish for is everything
to go back as it was.

We were happier then.

Whatever you want, Archie, you can have,
you just come out for him.

f*cking mad and f*cking brave.

Reckless, because what happens now?

Unknown and unintended consequences.
What I said.

- She cut the head off the snake.
They'll be fighting amongst themselves.

We'll slice through them in no time.

He wore a chain of human ears.

I must help those people under that yoke.

I want to push them all the way back
to Istanbul.

Are you with me?
I'll ask this only once.


I need to have a voice, Catherine,
and in some ways your courage shames me,

but I have to feel like I can
refashion our country for good.

It's why I wanted to coup and k*ll Peter.

Orlo! Leave her be.

She's just k*lled a man.

Maybe quietly revisit the shame
you felt at not being there.

Stay out of it, Elizabeth.

You're in her ear and that is part of
the problem, kept Peter alive as well.

I just need a moment.

We should move you
to the carriage, get you home.

No, no, no, I don't want to move...

I can't move.

Because when I get back,
I have to do something.

I don't want to k*ll him.
I love him.

- Love who?
- My dear.

I really feel like
I'm missing something.

Jesus. I do have a blurry memory
of them holding hands actually.

Peter is so deeply in my heart...

and I know k*lling him will do
nothing to dislodge it.

But it must be done.



He's a f*cking animal
who ruined his people,

who we threw our lives
on the line to overthrow.

You can't love him!

And now he f*cked
and k*lled my mother, so that's bad.


That is bad.

I might sit too.

I have to k*ll him.

I am totally with you on that,
always was.

I'll get the carriages.

I should've been by your side
with the Sultan.

Let me be there now.

What rhymes with hippopotamus?

In what context
are you possibly using that?

"Our love is like a hippopotamus."

Okay, I've got it.

"Roses are red, Violets are blue.

I f*cked and k*lled your mother
but I didn't mean to."

Keep going.

- f*ck.
- What?

Hello. Interesting news.

Apparently the Empress herself
k*lled the Sultan.

Unhinged with rage, I believe.


We will coup her.

No. I can't k*ll her. I love her.

Sometimes a relationship has run
its course and we need to recognize that.

When they want to k*ll you,
that's a red flag.


- We run.
- What? Where?

- France, perhaps.
Spain is warm and has a lot of anchovies.

Butter. Bread.

Paul smiled, he likes Spain.

And the princess who gave you
that hand job is there.

Ha. It'll be great.

Our kids'll love it too.

We're all going?

Of course.

Loves him. Loves him.

Loves him!

- Stop saying it, Orlo.
It's grating my nerves.

I'm f*cking reeling.

If he doesn't know, then we just
go in and k*ll him, it's easy.

- It's not easy for her.
- Loves him. f*ck me.

I will punch you very hard
in your stupid f*cking face.

I'd say both calm down,
but I'd love to see that.

I am fond of him, but the truth is...

he is Peter the Great's son,
he's by nature ever dangerous.

It's unfinished business.

She can't reign properly with him alive.

- What are you doing?
- Get in, Grigor.

Haven't had a chance to pack,
but I will meet you there.

He ran?

- f*cking hell.
- Unbelievable.

Shall we search
under the couches for his cock?


We have to win her now.

Idea. Should I get a horse, ride to him,
sh**t him in the head for her?

Like a gift? Thoughts?

I kind of like it.

But she loves him,
so you know we might be

in a "k*ll the messenger/assassin"


You will thrive without her.

There will be things to do.

I don't know what they are,
but of course we will thrive.

Because I am a great dad
and you do not need a mother.

They can, in fact, be tricky.

Or you can find him another.

Paul might even be happier.

I suppose anything is possible.

What is this stranger that keeps
penetrating my heart?

I thought you'd gone.

- Let's run.
- Where?


Seems well-thought-out.

I can't abandon her,
and I f*cking know you can't abandon him.

I have.



Well, hope returns.

You're much more attractive
when you're optimistic.


I can't take Paul from her.

Take him upstairs, he needs some milk.

Are we going?

I can't leave Paul.

f*ck her!

f*ck her!

Why can't she just love me
for who I f*cking am?!

Because she doesn't and she never will.


So what now?

I don't know, but the options
are getting deliciously limited.

Hey, compadre, you all right?

Not really.

I got us some hazelnut mousse.

That's so strange,
just what I feel like.

I get you. I'm the only one.

You know why?

We're kings.


I love Catherine.

She is sweet, and honestly,
if things went well,

I could see a foursome
with a lot of fruit play in our future.

- Me too.
How blissful would that be?

That dream's over,
as is Peter the Great's line.

There is Paul. My line is assured
no matter what happens to me.

- Thank God.
- Au contraire, puppy dog.

She has the same ideas as me
and will drive Russia into a ditch

as I drove Sweden,

and Paul will be a laughable footnote
and object of derision

who sells blowjobs and old furniture
at a roadside stall outside Moscow.

He is Peter the Great's line!

You want to explain to Paul
what happened?

He's not going to sell
f*cking furniture!



We've always struggled to be
the men our fathers wanted.

I gave that up. I'm my own man.

I used to say that too, with the same
slight squeaky quality you just had.

We've lost our kingdoms and now
you're going to be k*lled by your wife,

and mine is trying to get me
to move to Germany

and open
a fish canning business.

I mean, what the f*ck happened?!

We should get so drunk our organs fail.
That would be the manly thing to do.

I saw father's ghost recently.

He said he never knew if I'd
pick up the power of the line

that runs in my blood.

Well, f*ck.

My old man just comes back,
laughs in my face,

coughs up some blood spray,
weeps a bit, then goes.

Yours still loves you.

I guess so.

We face oblivion.

Or, other idea...

just now dawning on me...

You take back your country,
we raise an army,

take back Sweden,
restore our fathers' lines

and write our names into the history books

as the men who saved
the aristocracy in Europe.

f*ck, that sounded good.

What do I do about the fact I love her?

k*ll her quickly. Kindest to you both.

I was trying to change.

Me too.

But it doesn't work.

Agnes has a sister, amazing woman,

sucks cock like she's playing the oboe.


It was an accident.

That he f*cked her or m*rder her?

Well... Kind of both.

And you lied to me.

Covered it up.

Why hurt you when we love you?

f*cking Byzantine words.

I should k*ll you.

We kept it from you to protect you
from who your mother was.

It was an act of love,
not an act of betrayal.

Catherine, you're delusional
about people, about the world.

That is your great gift.

But it's a curse as well.

He loves you.
You've changed him.

- He k*lled my mother!
- No, he didn't.

in window ledges k*lled your mother.

Jesus, that is your argument?

He begrudgingly f*cked her
after she hounded him into it

as she tried to usurp your power,
and he was at a low ebb

and disconsolate at ever changing
enough for you.

It doesn't matter why he did it.

Or how.

Of course it does.

That's where the human being lives,

in the how and why, not the should.

If you cannot metabolize your pure ideas
of love and philosophy

with blood and sinew
and f*cked-up humans

who do their best and fail
but try to love and serve you...

Everything in me wants
to f*cking k*ll him.

Not everything.

Or you wouldn't
have to h*t yourself in the face.

I know you love both of us.

But you need to choose one of us.

I already did.



Just laying some party favors out.



Vinodel. Undetermined.


I was wandering, hoping God
would come and tell me what to do.

It's a bad time to lose God.
Peter and you about to go to w*r.

He knows I know.

Of course.

Did God have any advice?

No. He won't show.

Then I thought,
who am I without Him to lean on?

And then of all f*cking days I have
to decide who to back, you or him.

It's very intense.

You think he'll k*ll me?

He does love me.

I know it.

I don't know...

anything really.

But you need to be ready.

I don't think I know
how to live without him.

That's how I feel about God.

I suppose we have to just
take the next step.

I am behind you.

Because you believe in something.

Tell them I'll be at the wedding.

Will see him there.

Good luck...

to both of us.

All right, let's go.

This is ours.

You ready?

No one does anything
until I make a move.

And then?

And then...

Blessings, blessings, blessings.



You brought Paul?

She won't k*ll me
as long as I'm holding Paul.

- That's the plan?
- One of them.

I think you should
take the children out.

I was thinking the same.

The groom has to stay, I suppose.

A speech for my lovely wife...

My parents fought all the time
so we shouldn't do that.

And once she h*t him in the eye
with a pigeon he just sh*t

and the beak got stuck in his eye

and he had to wear a patch
and she was very cross.

- Wrap it up, Maxim!
- Of course, my dear.

I look forward to a long life
with my wife

and I hope you eat lots of cake.

It's raspberry and chocolate.

If I may, I would like
to wish the couple well.

And maybe add a few words on marriage.

I understood little about marriage
until I met my wife.

Now I know it to be a lot like
the roller coaster she herself built,

ups and downs, exhilaration, a...

a slightly terrifying sense
that all will go awry

and everyone will die.

But in the end you stay on the rails...

kept there by gravity

and the force of your love.


My advice to you
is to expect the unexpected.

Marriage is both a joy and a place
where you will be dealt unbearable griefs.

If love is strong enough,
all griefs are bearable.

Not all.

There are limits.

All right.

I did f*ck your mother.

- He what?
- Shh.

She caught me at a low moment
and aggressively poured filthy words

and hot promises at my eyes and cock
like hot tea on a sugar cake.

Which, you know, dissolves it...

and I fought it
and said things like, "No,"

and, "Your own daughter, really,"

and, "I absolutely will not f*ck you
against that birch tree in the moonlight

despite knowing you are wet
from a yard away."

Not a strong argument so far.

In a way, you are also asking a lot
of a man to be in love,

give unrequited tongue lashings
to the object of that affection,

be disdained,
given not a scintilla of reciprocation

and yet I still,
despite my previous appetites,

including having f*cked every woman
in this room, excluding Elizabeth,

although we did other stuff...

- Marial?
- An orgy. I mean, who counts that?

I have had no one...

b-bar two maids...

and your mother.

A brilliant laying out of points
in your defense.

You had, I believe, five points?

I also have five points.

- It feels we are really talking.
I am all ears.

Hmm... not a day to mention ears.

But my five points,
in no particular order...

You f*cked my mother.

You f*cked my mother.

You f*cked my mother.

You f*cked my mother.

You f*cked

my mother.

We can go
with her in an instant.


I'm honestly just...

just so f*cking sorry.

It turns out the worst thing in life

is to come up against
your own limitations and...

stumble and then,

in the fall, you...

crush the one person
you wished to be your best for.

I have carried a romantic idea
of people all my life.

Perhaps too romantic.

That has changed quite a bit recently.

I saw a great love
as a kind of perfect love.

Maybe it's not.

Maybe a great love, like a great country

or a great leader even...

is a flawed one.

Maybe what makes it great
is its embrace of our failings,

our scars...

our f*cked-upedness...

as long as we are questing
always for better...

knowing that we will bring ourselves down

as often as we set ourselves free.

Maybe a great marriage
is simply the ability to hold all that

in one tender, yearning heart.

Now let's have cake and music.

Push the table back and we shall dance.

I'd like to put Paul to bed.

Of course.

See you in your apartments.



I'd really like to go to bed.

I think I ate too much cake.
I must go throw up.

Of course.

Love conquers all.

This is Russia.


- Drink?
- Love one.

Good night, Paul.

We're gonna be all right.

Ha! Ha!


Guards, arrest them.

What the f*ck?

Listen, you, you...

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.

Get off me!

Apparently not you, Georgina.

What the f*ck are you doing?

What the f*ck is going on?

Not... not me! Not me!

Not me!
Catherine! Get him off me!


It's never dull here.