Queen of Terror

Chap. 2

N O T E -
      Because I suck at descriptions, especially when it comes to rooms, I'm going to put pictures I found online instead. Hope you don't mind~

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"Whoa!"

Everywhere glittered; it was as if the palace itself was made out of diamonds. I followed the man around as we walked, me constantly gazing around at the place and shouting out a bunch of words like, "wow! Whoa! Cool!" This wasn't something I was used to; getting treated like royalty wasn't something I was used to. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding as I dragged my bag along. This place was insanely large; I've heard of the Royal Palace a bunch of times, even walked past it a few times while I was delivering pastries to customers, but I never knew I'd find myself inside of it, living in it, and being known as the queen of it.

The man then stopped in front of one of the doors, getting me to bump into him because I didn't know he had stopped. I quickly muttered an apology, but he didn't say anything about it as he pointed at the door, before he opened it and allowed me in. "This is your room, Your Majesty. Please make yourself feel welcomed. I will be standing right outside your room, so if you need anything, don't hesitate to come and ask me. By the way, I forgot to introduce myself. How rude of me." He immediately bowed again, getting me to feel awkward. "I'm your personal butler. Butler Romain."

"Well, uh. . .hello?" I scratched my head, just feeling a sweat run down my face. Being queen didn't mean I had to be so formal, right? Clearing my throat, I turned around to look around my room, and the largest gasp escaped out of my mouth. The large room's main color was pink, which I totally knew was understandable because that was my favorite color. I noticed how it sort of looked like a little girl's room with all stuffed toys they put in it, but that was just me. I let out a small giggle. I could still remember some of the stuffed toys I had back at the bakery. Being the little girl I still was, though I was 20, I never let those stuffed animals go because I remember as a kid, how I would always think they all had feelings. Just getting this memory reminded me of how childish I was. I looked over at one side of the room:

I scratched my head a little, which is this weird habit I had and always did whenever I wasn't really sure how to feel about something. What am I? Five? I shrugged a little though, seeing as it wasn't too bad. The room was still incredibly large with such a spacious floor. I turned around and looked over at the other side: