Cinderella - A Sims 3 Retelling

[Figwit]

Thank you, Brooke.  I love the decor too.   

Sally

Mr James, the butler, gave his permission for any of the staff who were not engaged in serving to watch the arrival of the guests.

We had to stay hidden and quiet. Anyone who giggled or made a noise would feel his wrath. He had been quite stern about that.

So Moll and I had chosen a good vantage point on the upper floor. 

We lay on our bellies, noses pressed against the balustrades, peering down into the court room below.

We sighed over the footmen, handsome and proud in their livery and admired the finely curved muscles in their stockinged calves.

'I'll bet he has padded his,' Moll smirked pointing to one who thought too much of himself.



'Probably padded elsewhere as well.' We stifled our giggles.



We gushed over the beautiful women, expensively gowned with lavish hair and glittering jewels.

We drooled over the sight of the platters of exotic food being wheeled in through the large double doors. Aromas spicy and pungent drifted up to tease our nostrils. 

As upper servants, we had been spared the anguish of the kitchen staff, the temper tantrums, tears and raw nerves that had gone into concocting the exquisite confections.

We wondered again where Ella could have got to. Too bad that she was missing this.

We watched until the last visitor was ushered in and the main doors closed but neither Moll nor I could recall the arrival of the mystery woman who was to cause such a to do at the Ball and for weeks following.

[Brooke.]

It's interested that you switched to first person narrative for this part, I felt it made it more of a personal experience and loved the conversation between them 

[Figwit]

Thanks Brooke.  I enjoyed their conversation too.
I tend to switch all over the place.  I am sure I break all the rules of writing a story  

Ella

I couldn't believe my reflection in the mirror in Mrs Keaton's bedroom. A stunningly beautiful fairy princess gazed back at me.  I thought I would surely faint.



'I can't do it.'

My nerves had given way. 'How can I fool them all? They will see through the disguise. They will laugh at my clumsiness and ridicule my pretence.  I will trip on my gown and mix up the dance steps.  I will be disgraced and dismissed.'

Mrs Keaton looked me in the eye.

'You can take the chance on having the best time in your life or you can back out and go back to being a simple servant. Of course it is a risk.

'There is a very real chance of you being caught out but,' She paused, her eyes bright and two spots of colour in her cheeks.

'I believe, in my soul, that you can carry it off. You have a special air about you, Ella. You do not realise your difference from the others and the confidence which clings to your every move.  I would not have involved myself in this mad escapade if I doubted you for a moment.'

I drew a deep breath. I would not back out. Mrs Keaton fastened my mask in place and led me through the secret passageways.

'Remember,' She cautioned, ''Midnight means unmasking so make certain you leave before then.'

[Brooke.]

Ella is even more beautiful dressed up, looking forward to seeing her at the ball 

[Figwit]

Me too.  It's my favourite part.   

Prince Edmund

The Prince's jaw dropped when he spied the newcomer.



She stood, uncertain, a little awkwardly in the archway. Her golden hair lay in gentle waves down her long and graceful neck. 

Atop her head, a glittering tiara caught the light of a thousand candles and twinkled with red, yellow and blue brilliance. 

Stray wisps of hair framed her small, perfect face. His eyes wandered down her neck to the hollow at her throat, smooth white shoulders, tiny waist disappearing into the cloud of silk that was her gown.

Her back was straight and her head held high.



He bowed low before her.

'My lady. Would you do me the honour of the next dance?'



Queen Iris

Who is she, that girl with my son? Do I dare ask my husband?

Perhaps she is his latest dalliance, but no. She is much too young even for him and he would not want to share such a jewel with his son. 

Why is there a nagging at the back of my mind? There is something familiar. I know these feelings. I should not ignore them.



King Henry

Henry watched the happy dancers, his gaze resting on his son's beautiful partner.

The boy should really be spreading himself amongst the rest of his guests.

It was poor form to monopolize one woman all night but who could blame the lad?

Sarah.

Why did he think of her now? So long ago.

He remembered the last time he had seen her dance. Her eyes had been blazing with fire and her colour was high.

He shifted in his chair and tried to dismiss his memories. He didn't need to spoil his evening  by reminding himself of events best forgotten.

Surreptitiously, he glanced at Iris sitting as ever by his side.



She had more than vindicated his father's choice. She had proved to be an admirable Queen and support to him, intelligent, noble and just.

He doubted if the passionate, emotional Sarah would have been such an asset to the Kingdom.



Still, and he had to smile, it would have been a wild ride.

[Brooke.]

Stupid prince, how could he not recognise her? The blurred edges of the pictures are a nice touch to the dreamy and reminiscence of the characters.

[Figwit]

Yes, he obviously needs glasses 

I love the photo effects my friend used.  She did such an amazing job on the whole thing.

Ella

Everywhere Ella's senses were assailed. 

She felt as unsubstantial as the finest gossamer blowing in a summer breeze and her feet in their dancing slippers barely seemed to touch the floor. 

The jewellery of the women flashed and dazzled the eyes;


the waft from their powders and perfumes  – violets, roses, lavender – merged into a tantalizing fragrance to blend with the aroma from the platters of delicious food that the footmen snaked through the crowds;



the bright and cheery music that filled the room with rhythms making it impossible to keep her feet still; the rustle of silken gowns;



the snippets of conversation as people danced past or the sudden high peel of girlish laughter;



the men, colourful peacocks in their expensive finery bowing to her, begging her for a dance if only the Prince would relinquish her for a moment.



But his grasp on her arm was firm and there was no doubt that he would not be sharing this treasure. 

When she twirled away in a dance, he would be waiting at the end of the reel to reclaim her again, his face, so close to her, so achingly familiar despite the mask.



'Who are you?' He had begged many times.

She had smilingly shaken her head and pointed to her mask, reminding him that it was supposed to be a secret for the time being.  She didn't trust herself to speak.

Prince Edmund

Who is she this enigma, this stranger? No women I know match with her. Those lips look so delicious. I long to taste them.



Is she a gift from my parents perhaps? My father, the King, of course. That must be it. Who would have thought the old man could have such exquisite taste?

[Brooke.]

The guests are so beautifully dressed, I feel sorry for them not getting enoug attention from the prince and Ella 

[Figwit]

Yes, it was very rude of the prince but I don't think Ella minded. 

Time

TWELVE

Ella startled as if suddenly woken from a pleasant dream.



A clock had begun to chime the hour and the crowd around her were good-humouredly counting down the gongs.

ELEVEN

The unmasking at midnight.

TEN

Had time flown by so fast? She had to run.

NINE

'Excuse me, Your Highness,' She bobbed a quick curtsey, her servant's training had asserted itself in her haste to escape and, gathering her skirts, she fled from him.

EIGHT

A panic took hold of her. 

SEVEN

She wove her way through the press of people. So many people.  Surprised glances as she slipped past.

SIX

She heard the Prince's voice calling to her. Above the noise of the crowd, the chatter and the music she heard his anguished plea for her to stop, to return to him.



FIVE

'Excuse me please'.

FOUR

'Pardon.'

THREE

The door.  Thankfully it was open and no footman to question her.

TWO

At last she was through.

ONE

She ran. Her lungs felt as if they were bursting. She dashed around the corner praying there would be no-one in the hallway, no-one to witness her as she pressed the secret panel.

Her heart beat as loud as a drum. Her hands shook.

'Please.' She prayed for a little more time, just a minute longer. She was certain she could hear voices coming her way.

The doorway opened a fraction and she pulled it open just far enough to slide inside the passageway.

'Drat.'

The heel of her slipper had wedged itself in a groove along the floor.

Her foot was stuck in the gap between the panel and the hallway outside.

Hurriedly she pulled her foot from the slipper and twisting and turning managed to push it outside into the hallway.

No time to rescue it now because she could definitely hear voices.

The panel closed with a snap and she was alone in the dark with just her heaving lungs.

With shaking fingers she lit a candle and limped her way back to the housekeeper's room.

[Brooke.]

I liked your idea of her slipper getting stuck rather than her 'accidentally' losing it in a hurry.

[Figwit]

Thanks Brooke.  I wanted something different.  It didn't make sense that it would just pop off her foot when she had been dancing in it all night without losing it. 
Just a short update today as I think the next bits work better if kept together.


Agnes Keaton

Well, she got away with it. A pity about the slipper but I doubt if either of us will have the nerve to try this again.  I wonder at our foolishness but I can't keep the smile from my face.



Ah your majesty. 

I doubt you recognized the dress and remembered she who once wore it. So easily you hardened your heart against her.

Prince Edmund

He held the slipper in his hand a puzzled frown creasing his forehead and frustration and disappointment tugging down the corners of his lips.



He had pushed his mask up onto his head. He cared little for the Ball now. He ignored the curious who had followed him out of the ballroom.

It must be her's. What sort of creature was she that she could disappear into thin air?

[Brooke.]

I really want him to find her and curious as to where the story goes from here (as the evil stepmother and ugly sisters don't exist).

[Figwit]

Moll and Sal are sort of stand-ins for the 'ugly' step-sisters. 

Queen Iris



I worry about my son. He has been morose and angry since that wretched woman slipped from him at the Ball. 



She is indeed a puzzle for none can claim to have had her acquaintance. 

My staff has searched the lists of invitees and no name has sprung forth that any cannot claim to have some knowledge, no matter how tenuous.

There is no cousin of a cousin nor visiting friend nor contact who may have been added at the very last minute.   

And now, she has ceased to exist for no-one comes forth with any intelligence despite the request from the Court. 

I dare not suggest it, for Edmund will not see reason, but I aver if she wanted to be found, she would step forth. I suspect she has her reasons for her secrecy and they may or may not be revealed in time. 

Alas, Edmund is obsessed with finding this woman and will not listen to any suggestion that she may not be free for the taking. 

I fear for his health as well as his mental well-being.

King Henry



I tire of Edmund.

What is it with the boy?

He can have his pick of any young woman in the Kingdom but he throws up his hands in disgust.

He describes the sweet young things in degrading words such as would be suitable for the denizens of an ale house rather than the ears of the Palace.

I regret that he is too big now for a thumping or that it would be undignified for a King to stoop to such punishment of the heir-in-waiting, but surely my patience is tried.

And now his latest foolishness is to waste the time of his servants in carrying that slipper around the kingdom seeking the owner.

He has declared he will marry the lady whose foot it fits. I can imagine there will be many hopefuls trying to cram their dainty toes into that shoe.

My son has become a laughing stock

Sally

I don't know what has become of our friend, Ella. She is so glum and distracted these days.



I feel like tapping on her forehead and asking her to please let the real Ella come back.

She didn't even laugh when Moll brought in the boot covered with cow poop on a velvet cushion.

She was so funny. I nearly split my sides.

She waited till we were all sitting at the supper table and then in she walks all pompous with her nose in the air and tells us that whoever it fits gets to marry the stableboy. 

I could tell that even Mr James had to stop himself from laughing though he tried to look serious.

His royal daftness hasn't been around for a while. Perhaps Ella misses his attentions.

Prince Edmund

I feel I am losing my mind and if I am, then it is because the witch has sunk her claws into my heart and will not let go.



Witch? A beautiful one but surely she has cast a spell on me.

I am lost in her enchantment and nothing will break it. 

My servants laugh at me. I see their sly glances and their carefully hidden smiles. I do not care.

I will have that woman. There will be no peace in my life until I do.

I need a distraction. 

Yes, the pretty little house maid will serve as a delightful panacea for my ills.

Ah, her sweet kisses will soothe my aching heart.

[Brooke.]

She didn't even laugh when Moll brought in the boot covered with cow poop on a velvet cushion.

She was so funny. I nearly split my sides.

She waited till we were all sitting at the supper table and then in she walks all pompous with her nose in the air and tells us that whoever it fits gets to marry the stableboy.

Oh, I love this - had to laugh quietly as my sister thinks I'm mad 

[Figwit]

Aw thanks Brooke. I had fun with that bit. 

Ella had just climbed into bed when there was a soft tap at the door. Her heart skipped a beat.

She knew it would be him.

She cracked open the door quietly so not to wake her sleeping room-mates.

Edmund stood in the doorway, his blonde hair shimmering gold in the candlelight. His eyes were dark pits in a face grown pale.

He reached for her, pulling her to him.

'Ella.' His voice was hoarse and he held her to him in a tight embrace.

Her knees weakened and she melted against him.  Soft words tumbled from his lips, sweet as nectar and soothing as honey. 

She sighed.  How tempting to lose herself in his arms so warm and strong and utterly precious to her. 



Her prince, her Edmund who had been so entranced by her at the Ball.

But she must keep her word to Miss Keaton.

Reluctantly, she turned her face so that his kiss grazed her ear.

'Sir, you must go.  I am forbidden...” She stepped back away from him.

'Who forbids you?' The prince pulled her back to him more roughly than before. 'Tell me and I will have them whipped.'

His tone was jovial but his grasp on her arm was firm and his fingers dug into her skin. 

His temper was rising.  He was a prince.  He was not to be thwarted. 

Ella squared her shoulders.  Mrs Keaton's face flashed before her.  Yes, this is what she had ordered but, more than that, she knew she must own this decision herself. 

'It is my wish, sir.'  How charming he had been when he supposed she was someone else. She rubbed at her arm where his hand had been. 

He would not have bruised her skin with his angry grip when he thought her a fine lady. 

Gently but firmly she raised her hands to his chest and pushed him back.



'No, my lord.' She looked him in the eye, gathering her willpower and her courage. 'You must  go.'

His face fell.  For a moment she thought she saw true regret but then his mouth curled in a scornful sneer and his brow grew dark.

He grabbed for her again. 'Do not play such games, Ella. I am not to be trifled with.'



His voice had risen. In the room behind, Ella heard her room mates yawn loudly making it obvious that they were awake and aware.

'Ella?  Is that you?'  Moll was padding across the floor, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. 

At her shoulder, Sal clutched a coat to her chest to modestly hide her thin slip.  So disingenuous their act.  Ella loved them for their loyalty but they fooled no one.

'Oh, beg pardon Your Highness,' Moll bobbed a curtsey, a ridiculous sight in her slip.

The Prince's eyes flashed. His nerves were raw with frustration and hurt.  This night was fast turning sour and now the idiot companions were awake. 

With a savage snarl, he pushed Ella away more roughly than he intended but his rising temper lent strength to his actions.



She was caught off balance and stumbled.

She grabbed hold of her dresser for support, dislodging her neatly folded apron and the thing it was hiding. The dancing slipper, the memento of her night at the Ball, fell to the floor.

It was a tiny thing; insignificant in its size, colour and weight; the room was gloomy with only a weak candle to light the shadows; yet all saw the slipper.

The silence hung heavy on the air as four collective breaths were drawn.