A/N - Just in case anyone is concerned, there is no sexual assualt/ non-con in this chapter or planned to be in this story at this time. I promise to give warnings if anything like that becomes part of the story in the future.

Changed

Bed. Tiye's stomach churned. Her fingers plucked at the stem of the silver chalice. Perhaps she should try to drink some more of the date wine to fortify herself for what was to come. She'd give every jewel she possessed to make the world go soft and fuzzy at the edges, instead of the oppressive, relentless reality of every moment. But she thought her stomach might truly rebel if she tried to force herself to drink the wine, and while getting sick might deter Bakura's intentions for the night, she could only imagine what kind of retribution he might enact.

She shivered, getting to her feet and leaving the silver goblet where it was. She focused on not stumbling as she followed the Thief King through the antechamber into his bedchamber.

The room was one she had never seen before — grand in scale, as benefited a king–with walls painted in elaborate murals depicting the divine origins and great victories of the pharaoh and his ancestors. The space was dominated by a massive bed spread with linens and furs.

And in one corner of the room, there was a small straw pallet on the floor.

Tiye blinked at it. In her own chambers—her former chambers—one of her maids would make up such a pallet whenever Tiye was ill, or was attending some party or festival that would have her out until late, or perhaps if she was to attend a temple ceremony before dawn. Otherwise, they slept in one of the antechambers. If she had stopped to think about it, which she hadn't, she would have assumed Bakura's servants did the same.

Her legs shook a little. Please the gods, she could not bear to have a witness to her shame tonight. "W-who is that for?" she asked, hating the way her voice shook.

The Thief King followed her gaze with a bored expression. "Who do you think? You, of course."

"M-me? But I thought—"

"I know you were born a princess, and I a humble thief, but if you thought I was going to sleep on the floor so you could have my very luxurious stolen bed, I fear you have grasped very little of the current political realities." He smirked at her, and Tiye felt that odd flutter run through her again.

Tiye took a deep breath. She felt as if she were making her way through a wilderness of quicksand, taking each step not knowing if solid ground or agonizing death waited for it to land. "I apologize for my presumption," she swallowed hard, "master."

The word felt forced from her, but as soon as she said it, she could feel his approval flick through her. Such a strange feeling, so transparently not hers, yet leaving her feeling...lighter? Less strained, as if the weight of expectations and commands that draped her like a funeral shroud had become a little less. It felt good.

"It is late, and it has been a singular day for us both," he said, surprising Tiye. The words were not unkind, and there was no hint of mockery in them. "Sleep now, Lotus. Your duties will keep until tomorrow."

Tiye obediently lay down on the pallet. It wasn't the luxury she was used to, but it wasn't horrible either. More unsettling than the stray straws that poked her back were the Thief King's last words. Your duties will keep until tomorrow. What did that mean? Was this a reprieve only for a single night?

She couldn't worry over it long. Her eyelids were heavy, and despite the uncomfortable bed and uncomfortable thoughts, she fell asleep quickly. After all, it wasn't as if she had a choice.

When she woke, it took a moment for Tiye to remember where she was. The room was dim, light only by the pale, distant gleam of sunlight trickling through high-set windows. She rubbed at her eyes, groaning as she sat up. Her hips and shoulder ached a little, and her bed seemed strangely hard and prickly. She went to swing her legs over the side of the bed, and realized she had been sleeping on the floor. She frowned. Then, memory returned, a trickle at first, and then a torrent pouring over her. Her hand snapped to her collar.

"Awake, I see."

Tiye whirled to see the Thief King still lounging on his bed. His chest was bare except for the Millennium Ring, and the sheets were still bunched around his waist. "Good. I'd heard the idle rich like to sleep their days away."

Tiye looked away. "Such has never been my custom." She swallowed hard as an invisible hand squeezed her insides. "Master," she added softly.

"I'm glad to hear it." She could not tell from his sly, enigmatic tone whether he meant her morning routines or her use of the new title he had given himself. "From now on, you will keep to early mornings, unless I give you leave otherwise. I rise early, and you will do the same."

Tiye thought of her own attendants. She was certain they had some system of watches and warnings so that there was always one of them on hand when she rose, but she had no idea how they accomplished it. "How am I to know when you rise, master? Will you wake me?"

He smirked–already a too-familiar expression on his dark face. "I won't need to." His eyes fell on the collar, and Tiye realized the truth. Now that he had expressed his command, the collar's magic wouldn't allow her to disobey.

She swallowed. "I see."

He nodded. "From now on, each morning you will attend me until I dismiss you and call for my menservants. Then, you will go to your attendant and make yourself ready for the day."

Surprise rippled through Tiye, and he must have known it. "I will not allow you to disgrace me by looking like a mess. I want a princess as my slave, not a ragamuffin." His eyes flicked over her dismissively. "Since I doubt you have any idea how to care for yourself, I will allow you an attendant. Please me, and perhaps I will allow you more."

"Yes, master," Tiye murmured. She had to stop herself from saying, "Thank you," so great was her relief at the idea of seeing at least one of her people, of knowing she would not be completely cut off from them.

He went on, "You will rejoin me each morning to break our fast, and then you will receive your instructions for the day. Unless otherwise instructed, you will share my table for the noon meal and the evening one, and you will attend me at night, once I have dismissed my men."

Attend me at night. Tiye bit her lip. Small wonder what those attentions would be. Please me, and perhaps I will allow you more. She had absolutely no intention of pleasing him–if she had a choice about it.

"Do you understand, Lotus?"

She startled, jerked out of her thoughts and unpleasantly reminded of the name he had given her last night. She flushed. "I understand, master." She'd thought she would choke on the last word, but it slipped out smoothly, with the sudden relief from pressure she was beginning to expect. "How am I to attend you?"

"For this morning, bring me the washbasin and a cloth."

Tiye obeyed, trying to ignore all the scattered finery from her humiliation last night. It could have been much, much worse, she reminded herself, but it wasn't much comfort. She wasn't sure why he had left her alone to sleep on the pallet, but it wasn't a circumstance she could place faith in being repeated. She belonged to him now, and sooner or later, he would claim her.

The princess emerged from the antechamber, carrying the basin, far too soon for Bakura to collect his thoughts. He'd thought he was used to a lack of privacy after years of sharing camps with his bandits, but this was entirely different. You can send her away, he reminded himself. He planned to quite soon. But he would still know where she was. He would still be aware of her, would always be aware of her.

As she walked towards him, water sloshed over the edge of the heavy basin, spilling onto her dress. Bakura sucked in a groan as the fine linen went all but transparent as it clung to her skin. He'd woken up hard, and she was not helping the situation any.

The basin clattered against the stone floor as she knelt before him. Bakura tried and failed to pull his gaze away from the wet patch that covered an indecent amount of her left breast, revealing a hint of dusky nipple. He could make that wet patch bigger, could suck that dark nub until it was hard and straining…

"Should I wash you, master?"

The voice that brought him back to his senses was hesitant and uncertain. Bakura cleared his throat. "Not today, I think, Lotus." If she put her hands on him right now, he was certain his control would shred. He swallowed hard. "Put the basin on the table." He gestured towards the low table beside the bed. "And leave me the cloth."

She obeyed, but when she picked up the basin, she spilled another teasing trail of water down her gown, this one making her skirts cling to shapely legs. Bakura bit back a curse. "Go change your gown," he told her.

"Master?" she queried. "I thought I wasn't to dress until after you had been attended to."

He was going to need to attend to himself shortly if she kept parading around in that indecent gown. "You can't serve me wearing that. Go find something else. The plainest gown you own." Hopefully something made out of thicker material than that cloud-fine linen.

Tiye bobbed a bow, then hustled over to the leather chest that contained her belongings. His men had placed it in the corner yesterday–after checking to ensure it contained no weapons. It was a pointless gesture–Bakura knew full well he was perfectly safe from Tiye even were she to hold a khrepresh sword in each hand—but he appreciated the loyalty.

He watched as she carded through the chest, each action neat and careful, and lifted out a long white garment. She glanced over her shoulder in his direction, and he caught the spike of anxiety. He hid his scowl. The noble thing to do would be to turn around. But the girl couldn't keep expecting to be treated like a princess. She had to learn her place.

He arched a single eyebrow at her. "I thought I told you to change."

She flushed. "I can't undo the clasps on my own," she admitted, gesturing at her back. A stiffened piece of material ran down the back of her gown, and now that Bakura was looking closely at it, he saw that the the sides of the gown were fastened to it with delicate golden clasps that hooked through holes in the center piece, wrapping the pleated fabric snugly around her figure. Like so much else in this palace, an elegance made possible through the labor of others.

He had half a mind to slice it from her back.

Her eyes flickered uncertainly, as if sensing his mood. Shrinking back a little, she said, "If you'll just let me, I can have my maid help me with it. Later. After you've dismissed me."

He stepped forward. "No." He reached for the first clasp. Tiye sucked in a breath, turning the rest of the way around. She held herself rigidly, as if bracing for him to rip the fabric, but his fingers ran over the first of the gold fastenings and quickly found the tiny catch. He felt a small, smug satisfaction as the fabric fell away. Despite the calluses the years and weapons had left, his thief's fingers were still deft enough for this.

His hands skimmed down her back, faster now, brushing over folds of filmy linen and slivers of smooth skin. He felt her breath quicken, but she didn't flinch away, or make any protest. Was that docility or bravery? Or somehow both?

She shivered as another length of fabric fell away and his hand grazed against a stretch of bare, creamy skin. The dress hung loosely around her now, the delicate fabric more cloud than covering. His thumb skidded across the small of her back. So smooth. The palest of golds. Skin that had never been whipped, never been bruised, never even burned under the harsh glare of the sun.

His hands fell away from her as the last of the clasps slipped free. "Change quickly," he told her, and his voice came out flat and harsh. He turned away. "You have work to do."