What happened in your sims 3 game today?

I speant the past few days working on getting Praaven set up.(My HM story is still ongoing. I got lots of stuff planned for that!)

In the heart of Camelot, the grand halls of the castle were quiet, the usual hum of activity stilled in the late hours. In his private chambers, King Arthur stood before a tall mirror, dressed not in his customary royal garments, but in the rough-spun tunic and trousers of a peasant. The simple clothes felt strange against his skin, a far cry from the finery he was accustomed to, but that was precisely the point.

Merlin, his ever-faithful advisor, hovered nearby, his brows furrowed with concern. “This is folly, Arthur,” he insisted, his voice tinged with exasperation. “The king has no need to walk amongst his people disguised as one of them. It is dangerous, and unnecessary.”

Arthur tied a coarse belt around his waist and looked at Merlin through the mirror's reflection. “I need to see with my own eyes, Merlin. To understand their struggles, their joys, and their sorrows. A king who does not know his people cannot truly rule them.”

Merlin sighed, stroking his long beard as he searched for a way to dissuade his king. “You have always had a heart too large for your own good, Arthur. But do you not trust the reports of your knights, or the wisdom of your council? What do you hope to find that you have not already been told?”

Arthur turned to face Merlin, his expression resolute. “I trust them, but there is only so much they can tell me. I need to feel the earth beneath my feet, smell the air of the marketplace, hear the voices of the common folk without the weight of the crown on my head. Only then can I be the king they deserve.”

Seeing the determination in Arthur’s eyes, Merlin knew there was no use in arguing further. “Very well,” he conceded, though his tone was still heavy with reluctance. “But take care, Arthur. The world is not as kind as you wish it to be.”

Arthur nodded, a small smile touching his lips. “I will be careful, old friend. Now, let me see the world beyond these walls.”

With that, Arthur slipped out of his chambers, moving quietly through the castle until he reached the bustling streets of Camelot. The city was alive with the sound of merchants hawking their wares, children laughing as they played, and the steady hum of conversation. He blended into the crowd, just another face in the throng.

As he wandered through the streets, Arthur’s attention was suddenly caught by a commotion near the edge of the marketplace. A lady, dressed in fine clothes, and her two daughters were laughing as they walked away from a young girl who knelt on the ground, frantically trying to gather a pile of spilled goods. The bags and items had been deliberately knocked from her hands, and the lady and her daughters were clearly enjoying the sight of her distress.

Arthur’s heart tightened with anger at the sight. He took a step forward, ready to confront the women, but they were already disappearing into the crowd, their laughter echoing in the air. The young servant girl was left alone, struggling to collect the scattered items, her face flushed with embarrassment and frustration.

He approached her quietly, bending down to help gather the fallen goods. “Here, let me assist you,” he said gently, his voice soft but filled with the authority he could never fully conceal.

The girl looked up, startled by the unexpected kindness, and for a moment, she hesitated. But then, seeing only a peasant before her, she nodded gratefully. “Thank you, sir,” she murmured, her voice trembling.

As they worked together, Arthur’s mind churned with thoughts of the injustice he had just witnessed. He knew he could not let it go unchallenged, even if he was not recognized as the king. The weight of his crown might be absent, but the responsibility of his role remained ever present in his heart.

As Arthur and Ella finished gathering the last of the scattered items, he noticed her hands were trembling. The fine mist of tears glazed her eyes, though she blinked them away quickly, as if used to swallowing her pain. Arthur’s heart ached at the sight, and he wished for nothing more than to undo the cruelty he had just witnessed.

“Thank you, sir,” Ella repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. She straightened up, clutching the now-packed bags to her chest. Her eyes flickered nervously toward the direction in which her stepfamily had vanished, fear and resignation mingling in their depths.

Arthur stood, dusting off his hands. “You’re welcome, Ella,” he said, the name slipping naturally from his lips. He could tell by her startled expression that she hadn’t expected him to know it. “It is Ella, isn’t it?”

She nodded slowly, still unsure of this strange, kind peasant. “Yes, sir. How… how do you know my name?”

Arthur smiled, trying to put her at ease. “I have a way of knowing things,” he said cryptically. “Tell me, Ella, do they often treat you like this?” His voice was gentle, but there was an edge to it, a deep concern that he couldn’t hide.

Ella hesitated, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. “They’re… my family,” she said at last, as if that alone explained everything. “My stepmother, Lady Tremaine, and her daughters, Anastasia and Drizella. They… they don’t mean any harm.” The words sounded hollow even to her, as though she were trying to convince herself more than him.

Arthur frowned, his resolve hardening. “No harm?” he echoed. “Ella, what they did to you just now was cruel. No one deserves to be treated that way, especially by their own family.”

Ella looked down, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and shame. “It’s just the way things are,” she said softly. “I have to do what they say, or… or things will be worse.”

Arthur felt a surge of anger toward the stepmother and her daughters. He clenched his fists, wishing he could do more than offer words of comfort. But in this guise, he was just a commoner—powerless to command justice in the way he could as king.

But he could still be a friend.

“I’m sorry, Ella,” Arthur said, his voice thick with sincerity. “But you shouldn’t have to endure this alone. There are people who would help you, you know.”

Ella looked up at him with wide eyes, surprised by the offer. “Why are you being so kind to me?” she asked, her voice trembling again. “You don’t even know me.”

Arthur smiled, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Because it’s the right thing to do, Ella. Everyone deserves kindness, especially when they’re going through hard times.”

For a moment, Ella seemed on the verge of tears again, but she swallowed them down, nodding gratefully. “Thank you, sir,” she said quietly. “You’ve already helped more than you know.”

Before Arthur could respond, the sharp voice of Lady Tremaine pierced the air. “Ella! Where are you, girl?”

Ella flinched, her momentary reprieve shattered. “I have to go,” she whispered, panic creeping into her voice. She hurriedly gathered the bags in her arms, her eyes darting nervously toward the direction of her stepmother’s voice.

Arthur nodded, understanding her fear. “Go on,” he said gently. “But remember, you don’t have to accept their cruelty. There is always hope.”

Ella cast one last, lingering glance at Arthur, a mixture of gratitude and sadness in her eyes, before she turned and rushed off, disappearing into the crowd.

Arthur watched her go, his heart heavy. He knew he couldn’t leave things as they were. As he turned back toward the bustling streets of Camelot, he silently vowed to find a way to help Ella, no matter what it took. The king in disguise might have been powerless, but King Arthur, ruler of Camelot, would see justice done.