AN: inspired by Carrie Underwoods Two Black Cadillacs. It jumps back and forth from the two women, to the streets and to the past. Hopefully its not to jarring. So who are these two women and the mystery man? (PS: This is AU and ages are a little diffrent too)
Two black carriages were pulled along the muddy street by midnight-feathered ostrich horses. Rain fell in a black curtain, icy drops rolled off the feathers of the two great beasts. A lamp mounted at the front of the carriages as a guide shone bright in the middle of the day. The day was as cobalt and still as their hearts.
One was for his wife, the other for the woman who loved him that night.
A young widow rode in the first carriage. She was the epitome of a noblewoman, but not that of a one who had just lost her husband. Her expression was blank, her demeanor so well put together. Her long brown tresses fell past her shoulders, half pulled into a topknot and held securely in place with a golden flame.
The stillness of the mourners lining the streets was eerie, quiet as death itself. Death was silent. She did not whisper, and nor did a breath of a word pass from the lips of the citizens. The rain fell, persistent and steady. Not angrily, but with the calm of a predator. The raindrops poured down on the roof of the carriages, rolled down onto the black-curtained windows and then dropped to the soaked ground.
No one really knew just who rode in the second carriage, all except one. Her pale face was a different kind of beauty than that of her legitimate counterpart. The young woman's face was sharper, more angular; her entire frame was slight and petite. She did not hold the curvy, voluptuous body of the widowed noblewoman or the beauty that was of softness, careful placidity and patience. And it made her wonder why. Why had he chosen her? Her long index finger tapped the flat of a blade, just one in the full set hidden in her sleeves.
Neither woman ever suspected the lies their man had been telling them for months. He was a man of honor and royalty first, and a lowly fisherman second. He was a handsome, powerful, deadly man to his wife. But to his lover he was bewitching, chivalrous and charming.
The marriage has been arranged, love followed.
The affair was a whirlwind love and order followed.
To his wife he said his excursions were diplomatic travels, demanding usually three days at a time. To his lover, his time away was days out at sea.
Two months prior his wife tracked down the letters sent by his personal, and favorite, hawk, tracked them down to a young girl in a village only a few hours from their home in the capital. His love was marked on the page in graceful strokes, so like him. They were words of allure, promises of always being together and vows to have a home all their own.
And so, the widow sent a letter of her own. The village girl, practically royalty in her little blooming village, responded with a message that confirmed this lying, cheating man had been playing them both for oh so long.
The carriage slowed as they neared the Tomb of the Kings where his ashes would be sealed and locked away. The crowd of mourners were thicker here, saying their final goodbyes to their beloved ruler.
His widow had connived and contemplated for weeks. And when she sent her final plants to the village girl they both knew he's never get away with doing this them. His bladed lover had executed the plan. Her fellow woman had given her detailed plans to make it appear as an assassination.
Thinking of it now, she decided the blade that cut his throat was her favorite.
It was the first and the last time they saw each other face to face. They took turns laying a rose down. After the short ceremony in the tombs, both women turned to leave. The crowd was to busy lamenting and singing dirges to see them go. They shared a crimson smile and just walked away. He wasn't the only one who had a secret to hide.
And they left their secret at the grave.
fin