Cinderella - A Sims 3 Retelling

[Figwit]

Thanks go to my good friend, Simmerqueen, who collaborated with me on this story which was written some time ago.  She took the wonderful photos and I wrote the words.  I think we made a wicked team but I will leave that up to you to judge.  Please enjoy my retelling, sims style, of Cinderella.

Introducing Ella

The young master had come to Ella the night of the day she had turned sixteen.  How sweet he had been that night; so loving and gentle.





Her heart had soared. She loved him so much.


He wasn’t like that much anymore and that saddened her.


Some nights the boy she loved would be there and he would touch her face affectionately and tell her she was beautiful but there were other times when he was moody or distracted and she felt she mattered less than the fine leather boots that rested on the cold, bare floorboards of her room.



Those nights, she would weep softly to herself after he had gone and wish she had not had the misfortune to give her heart to a prince.

[Figwit]

The Housekeeper

Ella was collecting the clean linen one morning when Mrs Keaton, the housekeeper and the scourge of the house servants, had pulled her to one side. 

Mrs Keaton was stern and unsmiling and barely spoke to such as Ella except to sniff down her nose and point out a smudge on the railing or smear on the candlesticks. Ella’s heart had leapt to her mouth as she faced those icy blue eyes.

Mrs Keaton had grabbed her by her elbow and steered her firmly to a secluded nook at the end of the hallway.



'I have heard a disturbing rumour.’  Mrs Keaton frowned down at the nervous girl.

Ella was terrified. The girls were all leery of Mrs Keaton. She was quick to box the ears of the clumsy or lazy servant and her sharp tongue had reduced many a serving maid to tears.

She blushed to the tips of her ears but stubbornly, bravely kept her silence. She studied a spot on the floor aware of the beating of her pulse in her ears and a smell of wood polish mingled with the perfume of the freshly laundered linen in her arms. The silence of the upper floor was broken only by the muffled sounds from the courtyard drifting in through the open window at the end of the hall.



The housekeeper sighed. Ella dared to look up and was startled at the sadness and compassion in those blue eyes where she had expected to see anger and disgust.



'I pity you, Ella, for there is no joy down the road you have chosen and only heartbreak awaits you.'

 She fixed Ella with a fierce stare.

‘Sometimes even our betters, especially if they are young and self-centred, make errors of judgement.  It is up to us to be wiser and to use our common sense to protect our own interests. ’

'And,' She continued, 'Where there is no common sense to be had, then I will order it so.' 

'This will stop, Ella.  No, do not protest.  In this you will obey.'

[Brooke.]

Hello!

I love fairy tale re-tellings, great start and I hope to see more soon. Ella is gorgeous

[Figwit]

Thanks Brooke.  I hope you enjoy the rest of it.

Ella is gorgeous.  I don't remember who she was now but she played her part well. 


Agnes Keaton

Agnes removed the bunch of jangling keys from her waistband and pulled the pins from her disciplined hair.

Free now, it flowed down her back in rippling waves. She picked up a brush. Her hair used to be her best feature once, thick and glossy and streaked with gold.



She sighed deeply but her concerns were not with her hair. She had long ago accepted the fact that she was no longer young and pretty and the delight of … well never mind that. What to do about Ella?  She frowned at her reflection.

Sally

Sally ran her dusting cloth over the railings. Her eyes felt gritty and sore. She knew it was from being kept awake half the night by her roommate crying over his royal arrogance. She had to give him up.  Keaton was on her case.  Yeah, that would do it for most of them.



'How can I turn him away?' Ella had sobbed, miserable in her self-pity. 'He is my life, my happiness. '

Sally's eyes met Moll's across the bowed head of their friend.   Both were helpless in the face of such sorrow.

Poor beautiful Ella. 

Silently she thanked her lucky stars that she had been born homely and there was no danger that she would have to send his royal sleaziness off with a flea in his ear.  She would however miss the silver piece the young master often dispensed to her and Moll to shoo them off.  Handy it was, the extra money. 

[Brooke.]

I wonder if Agnes also went through something similar when she was younger, she is still lovely at her age 

[Figwit]

Ha ha, yes.  I think Agnes is definitely a woman with a past and many secrets. 

Ella and My Lady's Gown

Ella carried the heavy, tissue wrapped gown carefully up the curved staircase.

She was not normally permitted to use these stairs but this was a special circumstance. She had been charged with delivering my Lady’s ball gown to her dressing room. 

At the top of the stairs she padded down the carpeted hallway until she came to an elaborately decorated door. Balancing her load she tapped on the door and then turned the door handle to enter. 

Her breath caught in her throat. She had never seen such a magnificent room in her whole life.



The walls were decorated with bright portraits of beautiful women and paintings of flowers in elaborate vases. Silk drapes hung from the high windows. To one side was a huge mirror which reflected the rich furnishings and delicate furniture.







Carefully Ella placed the gown on a polished pale wooden table where carvings of fawns and forest animals chased each other up the curved legs. 

The quiet of the room unnerved her a little. Sunlight from the  open windows played across the floor and burnished the gold filigree on the vases and ornaments on the dresser. A statue of a scantily draped youth watched her with blind marble eyes from the corner of the room. 

Slowly she removed the tissue protecting the gown, finally exposing the frothy confection of lace and silk, ribbons and embroidery.

Ella sighed. Such a beautiful dress. Reverently she picked it up and carried it to the mirror. She held it full length in front of her and imagined herself dressed like a fine lady at the ball. 






She danced, twirling around on her toes.

‘Ella!’

Mrs Keaton was standing in the doorway. ‘What nonsense is this?’

[Brooke.]

Beautiful bedroom, I can't blame Ella for daydreaming as I'd do the same myself.

[Figwit]

Yes, it is beautiful.  My friend went to a lot of trouble staging the scenes for the photos.  I was so amazed when I saw them. 


Secret Ways

‘Beg pardon, ma'am.’ Ella was mortified.

Face burning, she carried the dress to the wardrobe and placed it on a hanger. She was very aware of those disapproving eyes of ice following her every move.

‘Foolish girl,’ Mrs Keaton scolded. ‘If my Lady had caught you, you would be out on your ear and nothing I could say would save you.’

Ella sniffed back a tear.

‘Stop dreaming, Ella.’ Mrs Keaton’s voice was softer. ‘Pretty gowns and Balls are not for such as you and I. Not normally anyway.’

Mrs Keaton’s voice faded to almost a whisper and she gazed off into the distance. 



Ella stood before her, nervously twisting her fingers unsure if she should leave as Mrs Keaton appeared to have lost interest in her.

'Come with me, Ella.' 

Ella startled as Mrs Keaton returned to the present and seemingly had come to some sort of decision. Obediently, she followed the fast walking housekeeper running to keep pace.

Down long corridors they went and up several flights of stairs. 



Ella almost collided with her as the housekeeper stopped suddenly. She looked up and down the long corridor, then, satisfied that it was deserted she pressed a panel in the wall.

'Tell no-one.' She hissed. There was a click and the wall opened like a door.

'Quickly,' she urged and she tugged Ella into the space behind the now open wall.

'This palace is riddled with secret passages,' Mrs Keaton told her as she struck a light to a candle. 'Very few know of them. The King, of course, but not many others.'

She held the candle aloft and a dim light lit a dark, musty passage. 'Follow me. Be careful because the floor is not even.'

'There are many branches from this one. Even I do not know where most of them lead.' She explained as they walked.

Ella felt cobwebs brush her face. She did not like spiders.

[Brooke.]

I hope your friend reads the comments too, I commend her work on the sets - I know it takes me at least a day to create a small scene and most of the set doesn't even make it into the screenshot.

[Figwit]

Yes, I am sure she is reading  and will be pleased at your praise. 

The Chest

'We are not here today to explore the passages though they will prove useful to our task.' Mrs Keaton said.

'We are here to retrieve something I hid many years ago.'

Ella was intrigued. Mrs Keaton was certainly proving to be much more interesting than the stuffy old spinster she and her fellow serving maids assumed. She could appreciate now how it was that the housekeeper was privy to all the goings on. How easy to slip through secret passageways to spy on the palace occupants. The woman must have a thousand secrets in her head.

At last they stopped. They had reached the end of the passage which widened out into a small room filled with boxes and other objects difficult to make out in the flickering candle light.

Mrs Keaton tugged on a small chest, partly covered by a cloth. The cloth hadn't done much to protect it because it was thick with dust.

Ella strode forward to help.

Together, they extracted the chest. Miss Keaton wiped the dust away with the cloth. It floated away in a thick cloud that tickled their nostrils. Ella stifled a sneeze.



'This belonged to Sarah of Wintersong.' The housekeeper said quietly.


'It's a long story and a sad one and maybe one day you will hear it told. Right now, we must move this chest to my room, quickly because we have been gone a while, and carefully so that we don't get caught. The passageways will help. Come, grab a handle. It is not so heavy that the two of us can't manage it.'

[Brooke.]

I can't wait to find out who Sarah is or was, Wintersong is such a lovely name.

[Figwit]

Thank you.  I liked the name too.  More about Sarah coming right up.

King Henry

Henry hardly ever thought of Sarah anymore.

Now and then a wisp of a memory would intrude into his thoughts but it evoked no more passion than the recollection of a fine meal, a glass of excellent wine or a favourite horse he had once owned.



For many years though, his every waking thought had been consumed by her. 

In the beginning it had been love.  A helpless, hopeless love. 

How his heart had quickened its beat at the sparkle in her eyes and the mischief in her dimpled smile. 

How entrancing the sweet curve of her body tightly laced into her bodice, the quirk of an eyebrow, the scent of her hair, the joyful music of her laughter. 



How he had marvelled at his big clumsy hands almost circling her tiny waist as he lifted her down from her horse. 

She, as light as fairy-dust in his arms, would smile up at him, her cheeks flushed pink from the exercise and the nearness of their contact. 

They would draw back then.  Move to put a decorous distance between themselves ever aware that their control could evaporate like mist in the sun.

But she was always slowest to move. 

How she had teased him with those lowered eyelashes. 

Poor dull Henry.  Always so honourable.

He had loved her and despaired. Later she had disgusted him.

Queen Iris

The Queen strode into her dressing room accompanied by her ladies maid, the ever-reliable Susan.

'I have no interest in this Ball.' She sighed.



'My lady will be the Belle for certain,' Susan said firmly, taking the frothy gown from the wardrobe.

'Ah Susan. Your words are sweet even if you are a terrible liar,' Laughed Iris.



'I don't think I would ever have been the Belle of the Ball even when I was young and carefree. Now the years have weighed heavily on my shoulders, and alas, my waistline.  Do you think you can cinch me in a little more? Work your magic, Susan for I need all the help I can get.'

'I could never compete with her in looks or for his affections.'  Iris mused to herself but kept her silence even in front of her most trusted maid servant.

She had carried the heartache all her married life and was not about to confess her bitterness now.



Would-be Queens don't expect to marry for love. Iris had been bartered like a prized cow for her lands and riches and the strength of an alliance with her father's court.

The winner of her hand, was Henry.  Handsome, dashing Henry with his long lean limbs and a smile that lit fires in her blood.

Charming, captivating Henry who was in love with a ward of his court, Sarah of Wintersong.

Sarah, who had no money and no lands, no claim to anything but a distant blood tie and the key to his heart.

Prince Edmund

Tonight is the Ball.

My parents are hoping I will find my future bride so they do not have to go to the trouble of finding one for me. I think they grow impatient with my indecision. I'm guessing already which likely prospects have been invited and I am not keen. I could list them on my fingers, big noses, buck teeth, pointed chins, no chins at all, dull, boring, ugly. Need I go on? We will wear masks until midnight and then I must act surprised when whoever the lucky girl is I am then dancing with reveals her lack of good fortune. I will wager  I can name each and every girl before the unmasking. I hope I don't die of boredom first.

[Brooke.]

I love Edmund's personality, however shallow he may be  Iris is stunning, the woes of a princess in an arranged marriage is always sad.

[Figwit]

Thanks Brooke.  I have a soft spot for him too.

Molly

Molly wondered where Ella could have got to.

She was supposed to be helping with the table settings but she had not seen her all afternoon.



Silly chit. If old Mrs Keaton caught her skiving off there would be hell to pay.

She liked Ella. What could there be not to like? She was pretty, but modest. She had a gentle way of talking, not rough like her and Sal and her movements were graceful and fluid. She moved like a fine lady, her footsteps light even in her sturdy work boots. 

It was a pity she was such an idiot.

The gown

Ella watched, barely breathing, as Mrs Keaton opened the chest. Inside, wrapped carefully in many layers of fine silk was a gown.



Mrs Keaton lifted it out and laid it with great reverence on her bed.

Ella could have sworn she saw tears in Mrs Keaton's eyes as she gently smoothed the creases from the fabric.

'King Henry said her possessions had to be burned.' Miss Keaton was not really talking to her. Her gaze was far away, lost in a memory of days gone by.



'He was so angry with her.  He wanted nothing of her's around to remind him or the court.'

She reached into the chest and retrieved some tiny dancing slippers, trimmed with fur. 

'I could not let him burn her things. Not everything. I hid this trunk where no-one would ever find it.'

'You disobeyed the King?' Ella was astonished.

'I was her personal maid.  I arranged her hair, laid out her clothes, was privy to many of her secrets.  My loyalties forever laid with her.  I would have left with her if she had but asked.  I would have gone to the pits of Hell with her and surely that is where she did go.  Yes, I have disobeyed and deceived and this night, through you, I will commit my most outrageous deception yet.'  Agnes' eyes flashed with fire.

'But it feels right, and so I justify it to myself.' She continued softly.

 'Tonight you will go to the ball, Ella Ashe.'

[Brooke.]

Again I say very well done with the dining room décor, the colours and patterns used show how lavish the royal castle is. I like the replacment of Ashe for Cinder  Can't wait to find out what Sarah did to get such disdain from the King.