What happened in your sims 3 game today?

Arthur made his way back to the castle as the sun began its slow descent, painting the sky with hues of amber and rose. The bustle of the marketplace and the chatter of the common folk faded behind him, replaced by the quiet grandeur of Camelot's towering stone walls. He slipped in through a side entrance, careful to avoid the curious eyes of the guards and servants who might question why the king was dressed in such plain garb.

As he entered his chambers, he found Merlin waiting for him, leaning casually against a stone column. The old wizard’s eyes were sharp and searching, his arms crossed over his chest as if he had already sensed the trouble brewing in Arthur’s heart.

"Well, my lord," Merlin began, his voice a blend of curiosity and concern, "what news dost thou bring from thy grand adventure amongst the common folk? Didst thou find what thou sought?"

Aye, Merlin,” he replied, his voice somber. “I have seen much in but a few short hours, and my heart is sore for it. The people are not as merry as I had hoped, nor as content as I was led to believe.”

Merlin nodded, his expression softening. “Aye, such is oft the truth of things, hidden beneath layers of pleasantries and forced smiles. Tell me, what troubles thee so, Arthur? What didst thou see?”

Arthur moved to the hearth, where a small fire crackled, casting flickering shadows across the stone walls. He stared into the flames for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I happened upon a young maiden,” he began, “by name Ella. A fair and gentle soul, yet burdened by the cruelty of her own kin—her stepmother, a Lady Tremaine, and her vile daughters. I saw them heap scorn upon her, mocking her plight as she carried their burdens. ’Twas a sight that burned my heart with anger.”

Merlin’s eyes narrowed, his face creased with a mixture of sympathy and frustration. “Ah, the Tremaine family,” he muttered. “Their reputation doth precede them. Vain, ambitious, and cruel to the core, if all tales be true. And the girl? She is but a servant to them?”

Arthur nodded. “Aye, treated as less than that, even. I saw her hands tremble with fear and humiliation. She is trapped in her misery, Merlin, like a bird caught in a hunter's snare. She endures it with a strength that doth humble me, but no soul should bear such suffering.”

Merlin sighed deeply, stepping away from the column and moving closer to Arthur. “And what wouldst thou do, Arthur?” he asked softly. “A king cannot solve all the woes of his realm by himself. The law can only reach so far, and the people must also rise to right their own wrongs. Hast thou a mind to intervene, then?”

Arthur turned to face Merlin, his eyes blazing with determination. “I do, Merlin. I cannot, in good conscience, turn a blind eye to such wickedness. If I am to be king not just in title but in truth, I must see justice done, whether it be for a noble or a servant. I must find a way to help the girl.”

Merlin studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “I have always admired thy heart, Arthur,” he said quietly. “But be warned—this path thou treadest is not without peril. To challenge a noblewoman like Lady Tremaine could stir more than a few vipers in their nests. And the girl herself—Ella—what dost thou think she would wish? To be saved by a king, or to find her own strength?”

Arthur considered this, his brow furrowing in thought. “I know not,” he admitted, “but I shall speak with her again. I must understand more of her plight and her desires. If there be a way to aid her without overstepping, I shall find it. I owe her that much, for what I witnessed today.”

Merlin chuckled softly, though there was a hint of pride in his eyes. “Very well, Arthur. Thou art as stubborn as ever, and I shan't dissuade thee from a course set in thy heart. Just remember—sometimes, a king’s greatest strength is not his power, but his wisdom to listen.”

Arthur smiled, feeling a bit of the weight lift from his shoulders. “Thou art wise, Merlin, as always. I shall heed thy counsel and tread carefully. But mark my words—Lady Tremaine and her daughters shall answer for their cruelty, one way or another.”

Merlin nodded. “Then let us see what the morrow brings, my king. For now, rest. We have much to prepare, and much to learn.”

With that, Arthur turned away from the fire, his mind racing with thoughts of Ella and the unjust hand fate had dealt her. He knew there were challenges ahead, but he also knew his purpose was clear. In his heart, he resolved to be the kind of king who would not simply wear the crown but would also wield it to protect the innocent and defend the weak, no matter the cost.

The next morning dawned crisp and clear, the golden light spilling over Camelot like a blessing from above. Arthur, clad now in his royal attire, stood in the courtyard beside his trusted steed. His deep blue cloak, lined with the richest fur, draped over his broad shoulders, and the familiar weight of Excalibur hung at his side. Beside him were his loyal knight, Sir Lancelot, and Merlin, who seemed more amused than concerned by Arthur’s renewed determination.

“Are ye sure this is wise, Arthur?” Lancelot asked, adjusting his gauntlets as he eyed his king with a mixture of loyalty and skepticism. “Ye have many duties awaiting you here, and it is unlike you to roam the countryside when there are matters to attend.”

Arthur mounted his horse and turned to his friend with a smile. “Worry not, Lancelot. This is a matter of great importance, though it is not writ in our council’s scrolls. I seek to right a wrong I witnessed yestereve. Besides, a ride in the fresh air will do us all some good.”

Merlin chuckled as he swung up onto his own horse. “Indeed, and ‘tis not every day a king makes house calls. Let us hope the folk we visit are in a mood to receive royal company.”

With that, they set off through the gates of Camelot, riding at a steady pace along the winding paths that led into the countryside. The sun climbed higher in the sky, warming the earth, and the sweet scent of wildflowers filled the air. As they rode, Arthur's mind was fixed on the small cottage he had seen the day before, where Ella and her cruel stepfamily resided.

After some time, they rounded a bend in the road, and there it was—a modest cottage with a thatched roof, surrounded by a small yard where a few chickens pecked about. Arthur pulled his horse to a halt, his eyes narrowing as he saw a familiar figure bent over in the yard, busy at work. It was Ella, her hair tied back, her simple dress dusty from her chores. She was gently cradling a small chick in her hands, speaking to it in a soft, wistful voice.

Arthur dismounted, signaling for Lancelot and Merlin to follow his lead. They approached quietly, not wishing to startle her. As they drew closer, Arthur heard her speaking to the chick, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“Oh, little one,” Ella murmured, her thumb gently stroking the chick’s tiny head, “I wish I had someone who would understand me, truly. Someone who would see the real me and not just a servant or a burden. But that is just a dream, isn’t it?” She sighed softly, lifting the chick to her cheek as if drawing comfort from the small creature’s warmth.

Arthur’s heart tightened at her words, feeling both sorrow and admiration for the girl’s strength. He knew now more than ever that he had made the right decision to come here.

He cleared his throat gently as he approached, not wanting to alarm her. “Good morrow, young maiden,” he greeted in his most royal yet kind tone. “I did not mean to intrude upon thee.”

Ella looked up sharply, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of the three noblemen before her. She quickly curtsied, almost dropping the chick in her haste. “Forgive me, my lords,” she stammered, her cheeks flushing pink. “I did not see thee approach. How may I serve thee?”

Arthur smiled, though his heart ached to see her so quick to submit. “No need for apologies, fair one,” he said. “We were passing through and chanced upon thy cottage. Might we ask thy name?”

Ella straightened, still cradling the chick in her hands, her expression cautious. “I am called Ella, my lord,” she replied. “Daughter of Sir Francis, though he is long departed. I live here with my stepmother, Lady Tremaine, and her daughters.”

Arthur nodded, as if considering her words for the first time. “Ah, I have heard of Lady Tremaine,” he said carefully. “She is not home at present?”

“Nay, my lord,” Ella replied, her eyes downcast. “She and her daughters have gone to the market. They shall return ere long.”

“Fortune favors us, then,” Arthur said with a smile, “for it is thee we hoped to meet. I am King Arthur, and these are my companions—Sir Lancelot, the bravest of my knights, and Merlin, my trusted advisor and seer.”

Ella’s eyes widened further, and she dropped into another hurried curtsy, nearly losing her balance. “Your Majesty! Forgive my rudeness. Had I known… I-I would have prepared something—”

Arthur waved a hand to stop her. “No need for such formalities, Ella. We came not for fanfare but for honest words. I was moved by thy kindness to that chick, speaking to it as though it were a friend. 'Tis rare to find such a gentle heart in these troubled times.”

Ella glanced at the chick still in her hands, surprised that the king had noticed such a thing. “I… I have few to speak to, my lord,” she said softly, looking up at him with a mixture of awe and confusion. “Sometimes, it helps to speak to those who cannot speak back.”

Arthur nodded, understanding more than she could know. “Indeed, sometimes the simplest creatures are the truest of listeners. And tell me, Ella, what dost thou dream of, when the day is long and the night falls quiet? What dost thou wish for most?”

Ella hesitated, clearly unsure how to answer a question so intimate from the king himself. “I… I wish for freedom, sire,” she said at last, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Freedom to be who I am, without fear or scorn. And perhaps, someday, a place where I belong.”

Arthur’s heart swelled with both sadness and admiration. He knew now more than ever that this girl deserved better than the life she had been given. He would not reveal himself as the man who had helped her the day before—not yet. But he would find a way to bring her hope.

“Thy words are wise, Ella,” he said gently. “And know this—no matter thy circumstances, there is always a path to freedom and a place to belong. Thou art stronger than thou knowest.”

Ella looked at him, her eyes glimmering with a flicker of hope. “Thank you, my lord,” she said softly. “Thy words are kind… kinder than I deserve.”

“Nay,” Arthur replied firmly, “kinder than thou hast been shown, but not more than thou deservest. And shouldst thou need a friend, know that there are those who would stand by thee, even a king.”

With that, he offered her a warm smile before turning back to his horse. “Come, Lancelot, Merlin,” he said. “We have much to do this day. Farewell, Ella. May fortune favor thee until we meet again.”

Ella watched them mount their horses and ride away, her heart a strange mixture of confusion, hope, and a glimmer of something she had not felt in a long time—possibility. As they disappeared over the hill, she could not help but wonder who this king was who spoke such gentle words, and why, for the first time in so long, she felt seen.