Story?

For some reason, twelve hours of travelling followed by twelve hours of sleep make my mind insist I write down the stories that develop in my head. As I wrote it down, I'll go ahead and let you read it. :)

The wives of the late Sultan sat chattering at one another and themselves. Communication between them had never been optimal because one was always jealous of the others, and they had often been kept separated in their own quarters unless there was a grand party, ceremony, or public event where the Sultan enjoying showing his many wives.
They were convened in the great feasting hall, called to a meeting by the Prince. The Sultan had been dead for less than 24 hours and the women were desparate to know what would happen next and what to do.
The Prince breezed into the room, his power complete and on a mission to make the women cough up the information he needed. "Good evening ladies" he shmoozed," I'm glad to see you could all make it."
Several of the women squirmed in their seats and a few seemed charmed. The Prince had looked them directly in the eye. Some were still uncertain of whether to divert their eyes in respect or meet his gaze.
"Now," he continued, "I have some information here that states you should all gather and discuss the send-off of your Sultan. Apparently he gave each of you part of the plan, and upon his death, wished you all to get together and discover what his full plan was and prepare for it."
Each of the women knew this was true, except one, the youngest. "Excuse me," piped up Flora, looking so childlike when forced to speak up in front of all the women she feared and the demanding presence of the Prince, "but the only instructions he gave me were not to ever speak with all the wives together. He became more and more insistent on this near the end, and I fear though you have ordered it, I must still respect his instructions for me and leave." She rose tentatively from her chair, still looking for permisssion for her stated mission and wondering what she would do if challenged.
The Prince acquiesced easily, soothing her by stating "Well, if he did not give you a piece of the plan, then we shall not miss it. I am glad you take the orders of the Sultan even in death my child."
The wives, who had started to murmer midway through his response in a disgruntled fashion, looked ready to voice their dissent. But the task of speaking lay upon the first wife, who knew the importance of following all the Sultan's orders. "Indeed my dear," she said coldly,"perhaps the Sultan did not want you involved with his last ceremony at all", cutting Flora deeply to the core with shame and dismissing her.
The first wife looked around at the others after Flora had managed to stumble out the door. She had also burst into tears, the sobs of which could still be heard as they echoed down the halls of the palace to the feasting hall. Over these echoes, the first wife - steel in her voice - politely inquired whether any of the other wives had had such instructions. The denials were prompt, and included all.
"Good," said the Prince, taking control again of the meeting. "Now why don't we go one by one, in the order of wives, of what his wishes were for his final ceremony. I'll write it all down and we'll figure out exactly what he wanted."

"He wants us to wear the outfits from the day we married him."
"He wants there to be no red eyes from crying."
"He doesn't want any children or heirs there, only wives."
"He wants a great fete in the ballroom."
"He says we should dance and feast through the night until dawn."
"At dawn, he wants us to remove to the ballroom balcony."
"He wants us to leap in joy."
"And fall in mourning."
"He wants us to end in the royal garden beneath the ballroom balcony."
"He wants us to be as one with him."
"He wants us to be at peace."

A silence fell as the wives took in the information. None of them were dim-witted and they all knew what the sultan wanted from his last hurrah; he wanted the lives of his wives.
A small voice from the far end of the table asked "Do you think he told Flora his whole plan and she lied to get out of it?"
The first wife, knowing no other way but intimidation and hurt to deal with subsequent wives after all these years, crushed into their emotions by stating, "No, certainly, perhaps he just loved her best and didn't want her to die."
The silence returned to the room.
They had many preparations to make.