Chapter Text
King Mongkut couldn't fall asleep. He simply couldn't. There he was, the king of Siam, laying awake at night thinking of—the thought made him want to whip himself—a woman? A woman! He couldn't believe it. He felt like a silly european. Thinking about women! Not even women, generally speaking, but one woman in particular and he just couldn't bare the fact that he could simply not get her out of his mind. He was king, after all. He had so much more to think about than a woman. Not to mention it wasn't even one of his women, it was a european woman. A christian, even. The thought made him shudder. He didn't even know exactly what he was thinking as he thought of her, he just saw her, there, right in front of him, that night at the dinner they had organized for the british. That long, funny sized gown that still somehow looked beautiful on her. Uncustomary, he had thought when he first laid eyes on it, for it showed her shoulders and her cleavage, like none of the other dresses she had ever worn in his presence had. He was sure he would have remembered if she had worn anything like that before. Funny customs they have, the english. Covering every part of the body except for that specific one somehow made it even more revealing than the clothing his wives usually wore. Of course that didn't mean he did not approve of it. He just couldn't bare to see other men looking at her. No, not exposed as she was. And when he caught her dancing with that Sir Edward Ramsay, or what she called him, just 'Edward'. He couldn't stand it. Not the way he looked at her nor the way she said his name, almost half whispering. He almost felt jealous. She had never said his name like that. She had never said his name at all. She had only ever called him 'Your Majesty' and somehow he felt like that just wouldn't do anymore. But then he had to tell himself to stop it because of course it would do, he was king, he was superior, she was his servant, his slave even. That's what she was. And still. And still when he saw them dancing he couldn't handle it. "Dancing after dinner!" he had nearly yelled, and immediately felt like he should have said it differently. But, no, no he shouldn't have. He was king. He gave the orders around here. He sighed. He had to remind himself a lot lately. Yet, that whole night, even at the dinner, he felt he was longing for her. For her to just be near him. Close. But then again he couldn't afford to get distracted like that at such an important meeting, especially if it was a woman distracting him. A christian. Thank Buddha the english had a wonderful impression of him-not that he ever doubted they would-and he was very proud of himself for that. He wasn't pleased with Tuptim, though. Running away from palace et cetera! There he was, eating leftovers after the dinner and his thoughts practically eating him, when Schoolteacher walked by. She looked beautiful. He could almost- no. No. She was just an unworthy woman and there was nothing beautiful about her at all. He had to remind himself that a lot, too. He had asked her to stay with him for some stupid reason and they had talked about the dinner and how wonderful he'd been with the guests and he almost let himself compliment her, too, but he bit his lip just in time. What kind of king was he, going around almost-complimenting european women? And yet he felt the urge to thank her somehow, in any way, because as much as he wished she hadn't and he was the only one that deserved any credit, she had helped him more than anyone else could have. And he just needed to show her that he really did appreciate it and that he wasn't a barbarian, he really wasn't. And before he knew it he had taken off his ring, his family ring, one of the most valuable things he had and stared at it for a second, thinking, and then finally handed it over to her, telling her it was a present. He couldn't get the look she gave him out of his head. She stared at him in awe, like she couldn't believe such a cold man could even think of rewarding a european, christian, woman with something that used to belong to him. He could hardly believe himself, for that matter. He didn't want her looking at him like that for too long, he was afraid he might feel something. Too much. He couldn't afford that. She took the ring in her small hands. “Your majesty, I don't know what to say—” He didn't want her to start talking. He didn't want her to thank him or to say anything, he just wanted her to put that ring on and forget about the whole thing like it wasn't all that important to either of them. And as he was always reminded as an infant, when one does not know what to say it is a time to be silent. Schoolteacher should know this. "Put it on, put it on, put it on." he spurred her. She put it on at once and then looked at him again, those eyes he had been trying to avoid for so long. He was still trying.
King Mongkut turned to the other side of his bed and tried to shake the thoughts out of his head. Enough with the silliness. Mrs. Anna was only supposed to be the schoolteacher and nothing more. He reminded himself that she was his servant. That she was lowlier than him. That he was superior to her in any and every way possible. For a moment, his mind was blank, and he thought he might actually fall asleep at least for a while.
But then there she was again. It was starting to make him terribly angry. Who did that woman think she was? From the first moment she walked into that palace, demanding to talk to him like that, to the last moment he had seen her, not once had she acted like she was inferior. And now she was even taking the right to keep him from falling asleep. He remembered when he first told her the rule, that nobody's head in the kingdom shall ever be higher than his. And she reluctantly adjusted to that but never, not once, had she held her head lower than his. It was always equal. He furrowed his brows. What a difficult woman she was. And yet when he thought of that dance they shared after they discussed Tuptim and women and "love" and first dances et cetera, he couldn't help but smile and want to whip himself real hard for how he was feeling. They had been so close. And yet, he had reckoned, something was not right. It was just not how the english were dancing when he saw them, he was sure of it. But when he told Schoolteacher she insisted on the contrary. Until he pointed out the hands. They were holding hands. That was not how it was supposed to be. He felt himself smile as he remembered how Mrs. Anna immediately moved away from him, putting her hands behind her back, almost as if she were embarrassed. "No, as a matter of fact." she had said, almost to herself. And he had looked at her and suddenly felt like he knew what he was supposed to do but he wasn't sure he should do it. This had felt really silly to him but he also felt... attracted to that woman? Was that the word? No, no, he couldn't possibly have been attracted to her. He decided to push the thought aside and slowly stretched his hand out, toward her waist, waiting for her to turn and run away, but, amazed as he was to see it, she didn't. He moved closer, wanting more. Closer. Closer. More. He thought he was very probably going to regret this but he didn't care, not at that moment. He softly put his hand on her waist. It was so small he almost felt like it would break if he put more strength in his hand and he felt relief when it didn't. His heart was thumping. More. Closer. He moved in closer and Mrs. Anna just stared at him right in the eyes and he almost did something very unscientific. He almost kissed her. He had hardly ever kissed any of his wives, why would he kiss this unworthy christian? It made no sense. "Like this?" he said, holding her as close as possible. "Yes." Mrs. Anna half-whispered, and he could feel her breath on his neck and she was staring right into his eyes, just like she did when she said Edward's name when they were dancing, and Mongkut finally felt accomplished. And then they had started dancing again. He wished they could have danced for more, the entire night if possible, but the Kralahome had stormed inside saying that they had found Tuptim and that was where the dancing stopped.
Mongkut felt a rush of anger when he thought of that young girl. Running away from palace because she was 'unhappy'. Nonsense! She was in house of King, he thought, how could she not be happy?! And he painfully remembered the fear in Mrs. Anna's voice when she asked what he was going to do to the girl and how she protested and decided to stay and watch him whip her and how he was just about to do it when he simply dropped the whip and ran away like a child. He felt so ashamed. He just couldn't bring himself to do it. Not in front of her. Not with her watching and thinking he was a barbarian and he had no heart and all those horrible things she had said to him. He felt so weak. He wasn't weak. He was a strong king, he knew that. He had to be. It was her who made him weak. She made him terribly weak. And all the same he was still yearning for more. Closer. He had to stop himself. Enough thinking about unworthy Schoolteacher for one night, he thought. But of course he didn't stop.