The Serpent Queen - First Season

Oi!

You the one they call It?

Actually, I've got a name.

Cook wants ya.

Why?

Fucked if I know.

You, stop!

Here.

Don't keep the queen waiting.

You want me to serve the queen?

She needs a new maid for her son's coronation.

She's seeing everyone until she makes up her mind.

So move!

Now, where are my ramekins?

Don't look in a mirror.

Could suck the soul right out of you.

I don't believe in all that.

Your funeral.

Hello.

Hello there.

What's your name?

Show us your tits.

Come on!

I'm not going in there.

Enter.

Drew the short straw, did you?

What's your name?

They call me It, ma'am.

Do they?

Well...

that's not very nice.

No.

They're not, actually.

Very nice, that is.

Well, I'm sure you'll get your own back.

I pray for their souls.

As I pray for yours.

I'm grateful.

Though...

it might feel better to get your own back

every once in a while.

You look hungry.

You've heard too many stories.

In a week's time,

my second son, Charles IX,

will be crowned king of France.

For the next seven days,

I'm to be consumed

with preparations for pageantry.

Feasts, balls,

decorations.

All the details that are supposed to entertain a woman.

But they do not entertain me.

Therefore, I would like somebody to... distract me

with conversation.

Perhaps that person could be you.

Me?

You remind me of myself

when I first came to this country.

You don't believe me.

Well, you're the queen.

And you are just a poor little servant girl

who doesn't even have a name.

Rahima.

Well, Rahima...

I'll let you in on a little secret, shall I?

I used to be just like you.

Someone else's shoes upon my feet,

shivering myself to sleep at night,

with nobody in the world to care about me.

So the only question is...

what are you willing to do to change it?

Turn the other cheek?

Pray for those who have trespassed against me?

Well...

I'll tell you a little story...

and...

you can tell me

what you would have done differently.

How does that sound?

Then I'll begin.

I was born of wealthy parents...

the wealthiest commoners in Europe.

For that, my family was envied

and despised in equal measure.

But my father had a weakness.

Syphilis drove him to his death

within a year of my birth.

My mother, infected with the same,

followed soon after.

My grandmother took me in.

She died in her sleep a few months later.

You might say I was bad luck.

Will be done on Earth

as it is in heaven.

- Amen. - Amen.

I was raised along with the rest

of the unwanted children.

Like you, I believed that if I were good,

God would protect me.

I was wrong.

Look familiar?

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart

and do not lean on your own"...

You're late.

Wait a moment.

Where is my orange?

The markets were emptied.

The soldiers have ransacked Florence.

People are starving...

Silence!

Come closer.

Closer!

Ow.

Get me the switch.

Do as I say,

or you'll have it yourself.

Medici bitch, I'll teach you to lie to me.

I have always had a strong imagination,

as if I could see things before they happen.

Sometimes it feels like I can make them happen...

Now get out of my sight!

If I want them badly enough.

Get me my dog.

It's dead.

It's a quality some people don't appreciate.

Though I might have behaved differently

had I known the risks the nuns were taking

having me under their roof.

No, no, no, no, no!

Oh, please! No, stop!

No!

Apparently, my head was still worth something

to the starving soldiers of Florence.

Where is the Medici bitch?

This is a house of God!

I suggest you leave immediately.

Then I suggest you fuck off.

Oh, Mother!

Upstairs now!

- Let her go! Let her go! - Shut it, old lady.

She's up here! Come on!

Now, where is she?

Hurry!

Open it!

Move it! Come on!

Cut it! Hurry!

They're coming!

Who amongst you would interfere with a bride of Christ?

That was the first time I knew I mattered to anyone.

I had never before left the convent.

My first impression of my fellow man

was less than favorable.

Would you help me?

Something tells me you'll be all right.

How would you know?

I'm a fortune-teller.

Make way for His Eminence.

Do you see that?

What's he doing here?

Can you believe it?

It's the pope!

Look, look! It's the pope!

What is he doing here?

Gentlemen...

I believe you have something that belongs to me.

Until then, I thought I was alone in the world.

That is not close to what we're owed.

We bled for you.

By the authority of the papacy,

I command you to free her.

Or burn in hell for all eternity.

My first taste of the power of presentation

made a lasting impression.

Fuck it.

Take her.

She's not worth the bother.

My dear niece.

What have you done to your hair?

Forgive me. It's an...

abscess on my exit.

Makes riding a terror.

Anyway, I have wonderful news.

Bit of a brain wave on my part.

Your marriage has been arranged.

- Marriage? - Yes.

There you are.

Second son of the king of France.

Not a bad-looking kid if you can trust the rendering.

And a more flattering version of your likeness

was sent to Paris, and that's been accepted.

Now the only task remaining is how to minimize...

how to minimize the disappointment of reality.

I imagine you're aware you're not very much to look at.

Mm, would you mind?

Mm.

But such a shame

that you didn't inherit your mother's looks.

Ah, thank you.

I-I'm told you're intelligent,