Queen Bed Extender Novels & Stories

There’s a small bar and fridge in the corner next to a wall-to-wall window overlooking the beautiful back gardens, and heavy black drapes in case I want some privacy. Next to the bar, and in front of the window, are a little dining table and two chairs made from reclaimed wood. On the other side of the room is a bed that would put all beds to shame. Bigger than the king size I slept in last night, the canopy bed harkens back to the seventeenth or eighteenth century. It comes complete with black curtains for extra privacy and has steps on both side of it so I can gracefully ascent to my sleeping space like a proper queen. I giggle at the thought. Me? A queen? Never.

I suppose we do". "Well then take me there at once peasant." We both stand up and he lowers himself, "Your chariot awaits." I look at him and shake my head, "I'm too heavy Henry, I'll hurt you." "No, you're not baby, come on jump on." I jump on his back, and he effortlessly stands upright and walks to the stairs. I contemplate telling him to put me down, but he walks up the stairs and not once does he stop to catch his breath. He makes it to the top and we walk to a room with double door, the entire upper floor is massive, there are other rooms, but only one has double doors. He swings the door open, and I gasp, the room is beautiful. Medieval theme, white walls, white marble floors, big win

“I hope it wasn’t anything else I did…” “It’s what I did,” he says with a shrug, refilling his glass from a decanter on a side table. The king’s room couldn’t be more different from the queen’s. While I’m over there in a dollhouse built out of cupcakes, he’s practically drowning in a pool of testosterone. The four-four-posters are topped with finials of carved wooden antlers. Mounted deer heads look down on us from every wall, and a taxidermied cougar is caught mid-spring above the enormous mantle.

I stepped inside—and there she was. The Queen lounged upon a bed carved from dark wood, its canopy draped with gauzy silks that shimmered in the dim light. Pillows embroidered with gold thread cradled her as though the entire bed had been built to hold not just a woman, but a throne in softer form. Her robe was loose, silk that clung in some places, slipped in others, revealing skin pale as moonlight. Jewels glittered at her wrists, her fingers, her ears—even in her repose, luxury clung to her like a second skin.

“I hope it wasn’t anything I did…” “It’s what I did,” he says with a shrug, refilling his glass from a decanter on a side table. The king’s room couldn’t be more different from the queen’s. While I’m over there in a dollhouse built out of cupcakes, he’s practically drowning in a pool of testosterone. The four poster bed is topped with finials of carved wooden antlers. Mounted deer heads look down on us from every wall, and a taxidermized cougar is caught mid-spring above the enormous mantle.

“Wow. You weren’t kidding.” The room is barely big enough to hold the Queen-size bed. Two tiny bedside tables sit either side of it, and there’s a single chair by the door to the bathroom, with a narrow in-built wardrobe to its left. That’s it. There’s no room for anything else.

But it had been such a whirlwind that I hadn’t had the opportunity to realize just how beautiful this room was. The King sat in the large marble throne, his golden crown perched neatly on his head. He wore a silky golden doublet beneath a trailing black cloak, and held a crystal-encrusted sword across both knees. He looked like something out of a painting, or a medieval movie. But it was really the Queen who stood out to me. She stepped slowly down the dais, a pure golden gown trailing behind her and a golden circlet around her silver hair. She moved with an effortless poise and grace despite her age, like an elder lioness.

The front table is the only one that is in use; the maids hover around it while they wait for orders. There are various reasons why my heart falters. The royal family is seated right there, to start with. As in... SITTING THERE, on high-backed black chairs upholstered in deep purple velvet. They are rapidly absorbed by my eyes. They really are just as the legends have depicted them. Galen, the king, had golden eyes and hair that's jet black. With her ice-blue eyes and beautiful brown hair, Queen Selene exudes grace and elegance.

It’s time to search the room for alternatives. The queen-sized bed with its four posts reaching the ceiling, draped in a canopy like the hem of an elegant gown, catches my eye. The burgundy blanket and matching pillows scream luxury. It’s the kind of place I’d fantasize about lounging in. But right now, I hurry to the shelves, desperately seeking anything sharp.

Gold light poured from sconces, gilded edges catching on silk curtains, the air heavy with something expensive and masculine like smoke and spice. And the bed. God. It stretched across the room like its own kingdom, larger than anything I’d ever seen. Alaskan king-sized, the head maid had said. It could fit an army. The pillows were lined up like soldiers, the sheets taut and gleaming under the dim light. This wasn’t a bed. It was a throne. And I was supposed to touch it? I crept closer, clutching the hoodie around me. My hands hovered over the sheets like they might burn. I tried smoothing a corner, tugging at a blanket, folding where I thought it might look neat.