Oh, fuck.
You need to see this.
You should come.
- How long has he been here? - A day or two since the coronation.
- And no one thought to move him? - Everyone's still pretty hungover.
Though it's Tarzinsky, so it's more likely they don't care.
- I don't know who did it. - I do.
THE GREAT
ALONE AT LAST
If your plan is that she ultimately fail, we should help her along, destabilize her.
We could give her laxatives.
I once ate a lot of those chocolate laxatives
and was destabilized for a month.
I mean actual destabilization. Politically.
Look at that fat fuck. A traitor to me and my father,
who made him a general, and now he's actually getting pussy.
Is anyone listening to me? Have I stopped making sound when I speak?
- Look at this guy! It's Coco Ottina! - Brilliant, Grigor.
Yes. Let's focus on the dog, because that's what's important.
Indeed, George. Well said. For it's the finest truffle dog from Italy.
Fresh in from Piedmont.
It can smell a truffle that has been wrapped in mink,
doused in lavender oil, and shoved in an old woman's vajuju.
- Do they actually test them that way? - I fucking give up.
I used to find the first of the season with my father when I was a small boy.
My father and I would run through the forests,
and when we saw the dog snuffling in that dirt,
nudging a newly formed truffle to the surface,
its very scent of musk and autumn
suddenly filling the air with its fuck-off deliciousness,
we would shout together "Truffle Fucker!" and run laughing together.
Then later shave it over some bread and butter
and walk home through the forest.
It was the happiest of days for us,
as he was very busy running an empire and was desperate to see me,
but was oft called away by business, war or pussy, as a man should be.
- But truffle day was different. - I really think we sh...
I'm reminiscing in my head with pictures.
Father...
- She will let you out for it? - Yeah, of course.
I have not missed a first day of truffle season ever and will not start now.
She's not a cruel maniac.
I wanted to talk to you. Firstly, meet Coco Ottina.
This is my court and my rules! You fucking killed Tarzinsky, didn't you?
I did. And felt bad about it.
This random violence is not the way of my court.
- He called me "dickhead." - That is your answer?
"I killed a man because he called me 'dickhead'"?
- Do you hear how that sounds? - Sounds perfectly logical.
Violence is not the answer to everything.
In this court, it is a language that everyone understands.
You will not get far if you do not come to terms with that.
Fine.
Guards!
- Beat the fuck out of him. - Funny. You're a witty creature.
At times, the point is so slight, one almost does not...
What the fuck are you two doing?
- Hey! - Help and you will be shot.
My husband and I are busy discussing an issue.
- Can you hear me now? - Fucking hell.
Enough.
All of you, out!
What the fuck? Should you see Vinodel?
Yeah, if that had actually hurt, I'd be quite angry right now.
Is that how you wish me to make my point?
I said I wasn't proud of it.
Clearly, it would have been better if I had not.
For you, I will try to be better next time.
Now, I would like to go truffle hunting with my new dog.
- No. - Do not be a bitch.
You have kicked me and made your point, and I have taken it graciously.
- A tiff between lovers. - We are not lovers.
We will never be lovers.
You are a bloodthirsty thug
and I wish I had killed you when I had the chance.
- Guards! Grab his dog. - No!
Lock him in!
What the fuck was that all about?
This is outrageous. She cannot treat him like that.
Agreed. We need to fuck her up. Something bigger than the laxative plan.
Or in addition to. I still think that's strong.
- George, you okay? - She is fierce and formidable.
- As are we. - Huzzah!
- Catherine, are you okay? - Not really.
That was so great.
To see a man kicked repeatedly and writhe in pain?
- What is wrong with you? - Okay.
- Where have you been? - What did I miss?
Much.
The Ottomans are massing at our border, blockading some trade.
- Fuckers may be readying to invade. - You should talk to them.
We probably should fire some shots, get a bit of a border skirmish going.
- Let them know we bristle for a fight. - You wish to start a fucking war?
Well, hopefully the skirmish scares them off.
But though a formidable foe, I know we could take 'em.
- I shall ready battle plans. - What the fuck is wrong with you?
A general readies war plans. It's sort of the job.
You are uncharacteristically yell-y.
Let us look to reason instead of,
"They looked at me funny. Let's stab them in the face."
We should try and raise the bar on our triggers for war.
Or do you wish to see more dead in your sleep, Velementov?
But this is different. This is preemptive.
- Dead men. At bottom, that is what it is. - I hadn't quite finished my point.
We fight, borders shift on the map, and we fight again,
recover it in dead men, and shift it again.
And how do you know they do want this war?
They don't like you.
They do not even know me. I am fucking charm itself.
Indeed. You are the veritable sunflower on a breeze.
Conceptually, he means a woman.
They were a strong ally of Peter's, and the woman aspect is...
Invite them to dinner.
I will wave my sunny disposition in their faces and they will smile back,
and we will find a common ground that allows us to be as one in harmony.
- Right. - I need a moment.
- What's going on? - I don't know. She is odd.
She just kicked the ribs out of Peter over killing Tarzinsky.
But there's something else going on. She looked deeply odd when I woke her.
Baby. Might be releasing poison.
- I don't think they do that. - Doctor are you?
No.
- Empress. - What?
I have always felt a strong connection with you.
We have had sex, which I did not enjoy much,
and you have fucked my husband,
which probably kept him from fucking me at times, so thank you for that.
You have been loyal to him through a coup and still are,
so this connection exists but is tenuous and conflicted.
Right. Let us forget about the past and focus on my future then.
I have no real interest in your future, Georgina.
All Russians, you often say, are your concern. I am Russian.
Well played.
- What do you want? - I seek a favor.
I already did you a favor. I didn't kill you after the coup.
And lifelong gratitude for that. But still, I feel...
I need to be punished in some way for my disloyalty then.
I have no interest in reprisals.
I did punch you once as well, and I've spoken ill of you many times.
Called you a bitch, a cunt, a German.
I see. And how would I punish you? I suspect you have an idea.
Perhaps if I was exiled to France...
against my will.
Take you and Grigor from him?
You see it that way, yes. I would deserve it.
As would he.
Granted.
You are exiled.
On one condition. When you get to France, close your legs and open a book.
German bitch.
An apology is a...
No butter?
She'll calm down, and then I will accept her apology graciously.
I can just...
be alone, and...
How are you today, my dear?
- Angry. - So I hear.
- Why? - I want this place to be better.
Yet this morning I was greeted first thing with a dead body
Peter had stabbed nine holes in.
- He is impulsive. - He's a fucking animal.
I have locked him alone in quarters.
No one will speak to him
until the only thing he can hear is his own heart beating.
Oh, dear. Locked in by himself?
Yes. He will have no one for weeks. He will suffer for his crime.
That is a bad idea. He does not do well alone.
- Great. That makes it a good idea. - His mother would lock him in for days.
He would go quite mad. We would find him naked in a blanket,
covered in scratches and blinking uncontrollably.
Really? His mother, you say?
- Elephant! - Elephant sucking his own cock!
- Crab with crabs! - What?
- What the fuck are you doing? - Entertaining him.
When his mother would lock him in, I would be down here and dance for him.
Right.
Sleep on the lawn so he could see me if he got scared.
- Went on for fucking weeks sometimes. - I have to tell you something.
Grigor?
Grigor! Grigor! Where are you going?
Grigor! Where the fuck are you going?
Grigor!
Mommy?
- Huzzah! - Clearly, I am in a mood.
- You were right to exact revenge on him. - He killed Tarzinsky for what?
- Calling him "dickhead"? - Hmm.
You say, "hmm," like it's reason enough.
Well, legally it is reason enough.
And the guy was a prick. So, let's not grieve for him too much.
What?
He pissed in the corner and threatened to...
- It is legal? - One is allowed to kill for many reasons.
- Property dispute. - Marital dispute.
- Bumping into you in the hall. - Fucking your wife.
Or pet.
It was all legal. There are 400 laws relating to it.
That is absurd. We must rescind all today.
It would require a regional summit of senators.
No, I don't understand.
You want to tell a man he can't kill another man if offended?
- Yes. - People might take a dim view of that.
- Shut up. - What?
- I'm tired. I do not wish to be... - Challenged?
Explaining my brilliance to people who think the earth is flat.
I need to lie down.
- I had sex last night with a woman. - What?
I thought a change of subject might be helpful
and that was the subject on my mind.
You wish to boast?
No. It is the third time in my life I have laid with a woman.
While not unpleasant, it seems not really worth the trouble.
You're being preposterous. It's marvelous.
Even when not marvelous, it's...
Sometimes people say words and I just hear a buzzing in my ears.
This is one of those occasions.
I may get Vinodel. You seem unwell.
Perhaps.
Should we...
Is the meeting over, or are we just having a break?
Sounds fucking awful. I need my violin tuned!
Do not ignore me.
Fuckers!
Let me out!
Fuck!
I don't want to leave Russia. And him.
We should talk to her. Beg.
Clearly after this morning, she's not in the mood to be forgiving.
- Paris, Grigor. - Fuck!
I know. I'm devastated.
But think of it. You and me alone in Paris.
Paris!
It is a new life.
- French butter. - Fuck.
There's no future for us here, anyway.
Did you not see what she did this morning?
- He has a plan. - What, that she'll fail?
I watched you two prattle on about truffle dogs,
and her come in like a blaze of light and power,
and I knew we are done here.
- You must trust my instincts. - This is Russia.
Her light will slowly be enfolded by our natural darkness and will be snuffed out.
She will break, and he will scoop her and the country up and voila!
So if he does, we come back.
And if he doesn't, we have a new life.
We will be alone at last.
Isn't that what you want?
You know I love it when you speak French.
Just say "merci " and do this with me, I beg of you.
How do we tell him?
- She said no one in. - I just want to talk to him.
Sorry.
I suppose if I broke the rules and did talk to him for a minute,
you would be within your rights to drag me from here into my apartments
and treat me savagely.
Get me the fuck out of here.
I fear you've made her cross in a way I've not encountered before.
I don't understand. Tarzinsky is a prick.
And he did call you "dickhead."
Exactly. It's baffling that she thinks this is wrong.
Although, I...
Hmm, okay.
Oh, dear. Although what? And "hmm, okay" what?
I did ask her, as I was clearly ill-advised by you to,
if there was one thing I could do to improve myself.
And she said?
She saw my talent for violence as less than ideal.
So, to reassure her of your love and your commitment to change for her,
you stabbed a man nine times a few hours later?
- I tried not to, but... - He called you "dickhead."
Exactly.
Maybe she will cool, and then you need to apologize.
I can't stay in here alone. You know that.
I know, my darling. That's why I brought you something.
Hello, friend.
Bye, my darling! You'll be needing a tighter grip.
No, tighter. For God's sake! Just stop it.
I'll just walk there myself and we'll figure it out when we get there.
- Is that a bowl of wine? - It is.
I assume you came with a question,
as I know you would have the good grace not to interrupt a man
who has a bowl of wine.
- The empress is in a strange state. - She has a baby in her.
A human creature of fuck knows what evil disposition.
It poisons their blood and gives them a many-hued bile.
I remember my wife, God rest her, had a similar disagreeable momentum.
My concern is decisions will get made that she would otherwise not make.
And so, your question is: Is there anything we can do?
Exactly.
We could give her a sleeping draft,
which would have her sleep for days at a time.
- Maybe rest would be good. - It has some side effects.
Death occasionally, scabies often, a stutter guaranteed.
Right.
It's probably too extreme.
- I would prescribe... - Yes?
Staying out of her way for the duration. Comes in waves.
She, I suspect, has purple bile at present,
and we must wait for that wave to pass.
And when she has yellow, she will be a docile lamb.
She will never be that.
Once threw a dog at me, my wife.
Patriarch.
A pamphlet on the interpretation of omens sent by God.
I found it in the library.
Omens.
God speaks through nature, its creatures.
One of our jobs to interpret, to help the people understand his meanings.
Indeed. A good read for the long carriage ride back home.
Which I suspect should happen tomorrow, don't you?
- I am at yours and God's whim. - That occurred to me, too.
And that is what God and I wish.
You are unhappy with me in some way?
Not at all. You are a simple priest who I can tell is best at home
with the simple people of his region,
interpreting antelopes appearing out of season and owls falling from the sky,
not in the vicious, swirling winds of court.
Do you not find God keeps one rooted and stable no matter what the winds?
I do find that, actually.
Well said.
Happy travels.
My question for you is, should I apologize to her?
It is a sign of weakness that should fill her cup
with disgust and loathing for me,
but her mind is one of unique machinations
and odd perceptions of the world.
Such as her strange aversion to random violence.
So therefore, it follows,
she may not even see apologies as weakness,
but instead see them as strength.
Yes, we will risk it as I need her love
and I need to be in that forest with Coco Ottina truffling.
We are agreed. Let us write.
You are a good companion, my winged friend. Huzzah. I toast you!
Stay close to me while we do this.
- Dearest Catherine... - Peter!
Peter!
- Grigor! - The letters!
- What letters? - At the door.
"Darling, we're waving to you because we're being exiled to France."
- What the fuck? - Yeah, I think he's at the bit.
- This is heartbreaking. - Look at his face.
"I know you love her, but what a bitch.
"Unless she wants rid of me as she does secretly love you,
"in which case, a sweet gesture. I leave that with you.
"Know that I love you,
"will miss your cock, your fun, your mercurial, thrilling nature."
Fuck.
- He's got mine. - What did you write in the end?
I couldn't write anything.
I just...
It's us.
It's got a truffle in its mouth.
Grigor, you know me so well.
Fuck.
They're my best friends, butterfly.
Why would she do this to me?
Butterfly?
Fuck.
- This is great. - I know!
- We're his new best friends! - Exactly.
When he gets back in, we will be first run in the court.
- I could be everything Grigor was to him. - Yeah, and I everything George was.
What?
I hear the kids yelling.
- I was looking for you. - I'm here.
Are you hiding from someone?
No. Of course not. I'm the fucking empress. I don't hide.
You should banish him, possibly kill him. I've got a bad feeling about him.
- You mean Archie has. - Why are you hiding from him?
- I had a dream. - Sex dream? Where you fucked him?
I have one where a series of cocks are brought to me on trays by servants,
and I inspect them all and can never choose one I like.
- All right. Your dream? - I saved Leo.
- What are you doing? - Reminding myself not to cry.
Pin a note to your dress. Fuck.
The dream was right. A perfect plan.
Would've worked.
Wait a week, let Peter relax,
get Velementov to plan an assault on the guard unit.
Leo creates a routine, a walk to that clearing.
His guards relax, he gives them plum vodka, but we've spiked it.
They're now dizzy and confused.
Velementov and his men attack. Leo runs.
I put him in a box and send him to Venice until it's over.
My cocks dream is more realistic.
And it doesn't matter now.
He's gone.
There's no use punching yourself inside and out.
Cry. Be sad is all.
No. I have work to do.
And being sad is a pathetic, self-soothing indulgence now,
and I will not fucking have it.
- Shit! Uncle Varnya. - Dearest Vassily Abramovich Orlo.
- I did not realize you... - I never have. It is an experiment.
Wait outside, young fellow.
At home, they sing your name across the region.
The impoverished but brilliant boy we sent to court years ago now owns it.
Well, I don't own it.
Obviously, I'm a big part of... integral part of it.
None of this would've happened without you. I know that.
That's actually true.
And you wouldn't have happened without us.
I know.
My gratitude is eternal.
And now, here we are, a chance to rain that eternal gratitude upon us.
We have some needs.
I am very much at the service of the empress.
I'm sure it will not be a conflict, for your heart will serve both loves.
That is your family's fervent wish.
Right.
A new road. Imagine the joy it will bring.
Four hundred miles straight from sea, through our great land.
Build it, and we will have access to the next regions.
A dream for us.
I will try my best.
You will succeed.
Right.
I know what you're thinking.
And you're wrong.
Will you retire to bed now, Empress?
No.
I have work to do. That is why I am here.
Get Vinodel.
- A baby's mother needs sleep. - Perhaps normal mothers do.
I do not, as I am an empress and have much to do,
as that is why I came to Russia.
Do you have something to help me not sleep?
I have something for everything.
Not sleep, not speak, not fart, not shit, not come,
not blink, not wink...
- Just get it then. Without talking. - Indeed.
Nose or arse?
What is it?
Lavender, gunpowder, and some plant oils and stuff.
I can't remember exactly, but it's good.
Thanks.
So, Belanova, should we perhaps go share a port in my apartments?
I think fuck first, then port.
I had it in a different order, but we can do it your way. Shall we?
Velementov, we have work to do. My apartments now.
That was good.
You okay?
To be honest, similarly disappointing to doing it with a woman.
I thought perhaps because it was verging on unpleasant with a woman,
perhaps a man was more the carriage I should be riding in.
But the road is different, but the feeling much the same.
Right.
And the feeling is?
- I'd really rather be reading a book. - Orlo.
- Hello. We have work to do. - Yes! We do. Great. Brilliant.
- Good day, sir. - Right.
I can see you are upset,
and think perhaps that I lost the empire, and what would my father think,
and what a fuckhead, but I have a genius plan.
And I know you will roll your eyes
and have commented before that perhaps my brain and way of thinking
is that of a peasant kicked in the head by a horse.
An affectionate jest, I know.
You see...
I love her, and she loves me.
My throat is quite dry, as happens with you at times.
I feel a bit shaky.
The room vibrates a little.
How do you make...
I just need to sit.
- Merci, madame. - Au contraire. Merci, monsieur.
I guess it will be fun.
I went there as a girl and loved it.
I'll miss the trees.
They have trees.
I can't stop thinking...
who's gonna dance with him,
when he looks out that window now and no one's there?
He'll be fine.
Stop the carriage!
- What? What are you doing? - We should stay.
- We could find our way out of this. - We're banished.
- He needs us. - I need you to go to France with me.
I can't.
Are you kidding? You've spent years trying to get me alone.
I love you, and I want you. I just...
- He needs me right now. - So do I.
Come with me.
You come with me.
That is all the legal codes, some 16,000.
So, we will read them all and find all the laws we wish to repeal.
- Christ, I hope you don't mean tonight. - Of course I do.
It is very late.
Katya, the children must read Sophocles.
Of course, Empress. Sophocles. He's great.
Now.
- Now, now? - Wake them!
There is no time to waste filling their young brains. Go!
Moving on.
I would like to invite scientists from all over Europe for a competition,
and we will beat them all.
Most of our good scientists left.
Offer them as much money as it takes to come back,
and keep offering until they say yes. Now to transport in the regions.
- Examination of routes. - I had an idea.
A road, 400 miles long, through a single region,
maybe from the sea would send a message of modernization.
Brilliant, Orlo. What would be a good region for this?
Maybe Reograditch. From sea to the farms, to the cities, one road.
I love it. Done!
Well, that seems a good amount of work...
I am not tired. We have a country to run, to transform.
People spilt blood for us, and we will repay it with sweat and toil.
And when I had that shaking disease the fucking doctors could not resolve,
when it was clearly from a swallowed bee,
you would just come in and say, "Still doing that, is he?"
Whereas Elizabeth would lie with me and hold me until I calmed.
I remember Igor saying about you being mean,
and his mother being better and her kindness,
and you saying "Igor is a cunt," and...
That was Igor.
Father Basil. We need to speak of the church.
- I feel it can be different, better. - I agree.
What should it be?
A church more for the people, and less about wealth and power.
Exactly!
All this politics and money and old men who won't look at a woman.
- I mean, you look at women. - All the time. A God-given pleasure.
Amen.
I feel a younger generation of leaders could help that.
I'm sure there are good men, who...
Look at this handsome, handsome, egoless holy man we have before us.
Gentlemen, applause for this actual man of goodness.
The patriarch and the archbishop of court are usually two different people.
The emperor traditionally names his own archbishop.
That is one tradition I would like to keep.
Father Basil, you are now my archbishop at court.
I am overwhelmed and honored.
- You are, as Leo said, a very soft heart. - And now our chat is done.
We will work for the good of the people,
and perhaps we will have enemies in the church,
and if we do, we will smite them down in a very Old Testament way.
Now, I have bought a lot of art.
I would like to build a gallery next to the palace.
Something small, so we can go visit it, and drink it in, and let it change us all.
So much to do! It's just... It's dizzying and fun, is it not?
Huzzah!
I remember once, you came in and stuck a pin in me,
and then left and I sat there wondering
what I'd done to get you to stick a pin in me.
And I still wake up some mornings wondering.
And the answer that floats by occasionally, that I refuse to grab,
is nothing actually.
Nothing!
Mother?
- Yula, someone better be fucking dead. - No one's dead, but it does seem urgent.
So, if you look at page 49, the word "thusly."
I don't like the word.
It sounds like the name of a Norwegian stable boy.
- I'll just take it out. - And thusly, he took it out.
Come on. Spark up, you two.
Thusly.
- Page 50. - Gentlemen, ladies need a moment.
- Marial, we're working. - I'm your best friend and need to talk.
That is the prerogative of a best friend.
In the madness of the night, when one has a problem,
we are there for each other.
So you two can fuck off and run Russia later.
So we should give you a minute, actually.
It's only polite.
Okay, what is your problem?
I am kept up late worrying for my friend.
Do not. Solved. Go. I just need to work now.
I fear you will make yourself and those around you suffer.
And perhaps the country as well.
An angry, seemingly out of control woman is not looked on kindly.
Trust me on that.
This country needs changing, and if people must suffer, then they must.
- Isn't that Russian, after all? - Is that why you're making Peter suffer?
I'm teaching him a lesson.
Cutting a throat or a nice piece of cheese are all the same to him.
Leo is dead because of him.
He was fighting for his empire like you were.
- Are you fucking defending him? - I am not defending. Just...
- This is Russia. - Okay.
What is it you wish to say to help me? Say it and it will magically heal me.
What would Leo say?
"I can't believe you let them kill me, you fucking cunt."
What would Leo say?
"Forgive. Live."
So listen to him.
For fuck's sake, cry!
Fuck.
Okay. Okay.
Where was I? This one. Arm. Small bone in arm. Fuck.
Hand. Fucking human body. Bullshit. A bear is simple.
Oh, yes. Yes. Yes. Brilliant.
Oh, shit.
I broke her. Her head, everything.
I'm sorry.
I don't think I can put her back together.
Sorry I was being cruel to you, putting her in here.
I thought you thought it was a nice thing to do,
having Mother to keep me company.
You have an overly benevolent view of me.
I love you.
Though your ruthlessness, which I know of already,
has taken me aback this last day.
I'm not ruthless. Not like you.
You actually believe that, don't you?
I'm sorry for my anger. I had a bad dream.
Was it about an otter who feasts on human hair?
- No. Why would it be... - Many people have that dream.
It's fascinating how many people respond, "Yes, an otter," when asked.
It was not about an otter.
Guard! Let her in.
Coco Ottina. Hi.
Are you allowing me to go?
I am. Under guard, of course.
Forgiveness will perhaps soften both our hearts.
Thank you.
What was your dream about, if not an otter?
Leo.
You did as you had to.
Let it go like a bluebird off a tree in the spring.
How could you be so fucking blithe about it?
I'm not. I even mentioned Leo in my apology to you.
"I am sorry you hate my violence, but it has served me well.
"And when one does not have a capacity for it,
"one easily gets knifed and flayed by those who do.
"Look at Leo, for instance.
"He had a proclivity for peaches and sonnets,
"but not knives and bloodshed, and now he is dead.
"And not saying it's his fault,
"but being a marrowless lobcock didn't help him, did it?
"My sincerest apologies, I upset you. However, I will try to kill less."
Now that's dealt with, I would like to go truffling...
- You do not care at all. - I just apologized. Did you not hear it?
- I shall read it again. - Don't bother.
Dog, we are going.
For fuck's sakes! If you'd wanted to save him, you would have.
I didn't know how!
I am going to walk over there and kiss you,
and we will see why you didn't want to know.
You said I could go truffling.
Fuck!
What happened?
What are you doing?
I'm going to find the first truffle and then burn it in front of him.
So, you let go of the anger then?
- Do you want help? - No!
How is she?
She had a dream.
Come back!
Fuck.
Dog!
I'll find it myself.
- Is it not marvelous? - It is. It is.
Jesus, Velementov. Is that really how you fuck?
Like an angry warthog with no control over your lower body.
Fuck!
Countess Belanova, are you drunk? Look who you're fucking.
- Yeah, pull your pants up, fatso. - He's a hero.
He's a thimble-cocked warthog who smells like an anchovy wrapped in shit.
Look now, he's getting his gun.
- You're really going to shoot me? - I am.
- Catherine will not allow it. - I did not know you were loose.
I was in the forest hunting. I thought you were a syphilitic deer.
I'll back that story.
Traitor.
Run, you fucker!
- Run! - Fucker!
Come here!
- Fatso! - Fucker!
Oh, shit!
Stop, you coward!
- You would shoot a man in cold blood? - Not a man. You.
Coco Ottina!
- Truffle fucker! - Truffle fucker!
Dog!
Fuck.
Why did you say that?
It's what we used to say.
- We? - You and I.
When we found it, as we did, we'd always yell it.
I was with Father.
Peter the Great would launch the hunt, get bored, head off to drink and fuck.
It would end up just us.
I remembered it as him.
We never failed, though. For five years when you were a kid.
Remember when we found those six under a chestnut tree?
"And another," you kept yelling. "And another."
- I do. - Such joy on your face.
That's a good size.
That smell... I'd rather eat that than pussy.
Unless it is pineapple-tasting pussy.
Though, that is remindful of summer, whereas this is deepest autumn.
So it is a matter of, as I always say, respect for the seasonality of things.
I have forgotten your curious inimitableness.
Bread?
- Do you have butter? - Of course I don't have fucking butter.
There you are. We've been looking for you.
We can walk on if you need more time.
Or sit with you?
I lost the dog.
And I lost Leo.
I think, to be completely honest, I'm very, very sad.
Do you think I could have saved him?
No.
I think the dream is just a wish.
You knew in the moment the truth of what you had to do and you did it.
You love Russia.
You broke your own heart for it.
Peter told me I'm ruthless.
He knows me well sometimes.
I don't know what to do with it, this feeling.
Suffer it. Shed bitter tears for it, and yet live anyway.
It is the Russian way.
Today, I'm very Russian then.
Question. Why did you betray me?
You'd been in my family for years
and we treasured you as we might our finest horses or furniture.
Well...
I suppose if I excavate to the root of it, you were a fucking terrible leader.
What? That's an absurd idea.
You also kicked me, called me fatso, made me do funny dances
when I had been nothing but kindness to you as a boy.
Because you were losing the war and making me look bad.
You were always in my fucking way.
We could have won.
I am a talented general.
Between the coup and the war on Sweden,
your talent seems to be for killing Russians.
- Just an observation. - Fuck off.
I'll fucking choke you to death,
this whole truffle rammed down your throat.
A lovely way to die. I dreamed of it, strangely.
You know why we won the coup?
- I got hungry. - No.
She inspires.
- And I do not? - You're a fucking idiot.
You don't care for the people, for anyone.
You are careless with people, their pain.
You shoot straight when you shoot.
Well, no one cared for you much as a boy.
My parents did not like me much, did they?
Fuck 'em.
Fuck 'em?
They're dead.
Fuck 'em.
Fuck... Funny.
- That was a good truffle. - Indeed.
Do you think I can change? Be a better man?
Probably not.
Fucker.
Grigor!
Huzzah!
- I'll miss Leo forever. - There'll be others.
- There'll never be another Leo. - There might be an Anton.
- A Gregory. - A Pierre. The French are very good.
First love is good, but I also recommend 21st.
Antigone wants to bury him, but that is going to be a big problem.
Sophocles' play deals with issues of war and death.
It's just amazing.
Let us go. There is much to do.