Clean Pin hummed; it helped distract her from the gaze judging her. With vigor her fluffy white wings dusted the window seal; not that there was much dust on the rich mahogany. With a nod she stepped back; mindful not to tread on the edge of her skirt.

Swift Sweep strode forward to examine her work; silk swishing around her fetlocks. They wore the same white, silver accented, servant dresses. She thought they were lovely; but…

“Do we have to clean in these?” she asked in the slight nasal of Manehattan.

Swift Sweep was leaning, looking at a spot at a few angles. Her accent was neat received canterlot.

“Only on special occasions and when directly waiting on the prince. However you must get used to working in it.”

“Sorry, just worried about ruining it.”

“Which is why you are wearing it now,” Swift Sweep stepped back, “mostly adequate work, but you missed a spot.”

She leveled a feather at a corner. Clean Pin stepped forward; leaning down with squinted eyes.

It wasn’t quite the corner; it was a tiny triangle of dust just before the corner that her sweeping wings had missed.

“I barely-” she winced, “sorry, I’ll be more thorough.”

“As I said, mostly adequate, but working for his highness demands the best.” She spoke with certainty.

With another wince, Clean pin flitted out a feather and got the spot. She turned to face that room; opening her mouth to ask what was next, when a horrible thought struck her. She paled.

Blueblood’s room was, in line with the rest of Blood Manor, massive. The Bloods had been given their land grant when Equestria was young; long before modern zoning laws had been signed in. The Manor showed its age. The remnants of the fortress it had once been was hinted at by the thick outer walls, and the dourer foundation stones. Each subsequent prince had put his touch, and obscene wealth; into the structure. The chapel built by Archblood for his aquillian bride, Quickblood’s fascination with Colthage stone carving, Goldblood’s manehatten style offices that wouldn’t look out of place in Fence Street; they and many more had left their mark on the sprawling manor.

Blueblood’s contribution so far had been to renovate the manors old observatory tower into his personal suite; and the top floor into his room. The bronze dome, with its mural of the sun and planets, remained; but the rest had been refashioned.

Large windows opened in every direction; allowing the prince to more easily look down on Canterlot. Paintings and statues were interspersed betweens the windows. They depicted Bluebloods ancestors in various forms and styles; their patrician features watching on. A plush, four poster bed was opposite a stairwell and elevator. To the right through a door was a bathroom; with its gold handles and a small swimming pool that some called a tub. The left side of the room was devoted to his study and library; and a parlor with a massive fireplace guarded by an ornate bronze grate.

Clean Pin took in the room; with its expensive and rare fabrics, the nooks and crannies of the statues, to the plush carpets and the high ceiling.

“It is going to take hours to get this clean!”

“Don’t shout,” Swift glared, then sighed, “and don’t worry. We are here early. We start cleaning at seven; but I wanted to examine your work without the distraction.”

Clean Pin nodded; blushing.

“Alright, sorry; got a little carried away. Was thinking about going out with som- uh what do you want me to clean next?”

Sweep eyed her for a moment before glancing around the room.

“How about his lordship’s arm-”

They heard a ding and the elevator opened; the pair turned and greeted Blueblood with wide eyes. He was followed by the ever faithful Alfalfa. Hastily they gave deep curtsies; wings held tight to their sides. Blueblood’s voice cracked across the room.

“Why are you in here!? No, you should be. Why isn’t my room clean!?” Clean Pin shriveled; Swift Sweep licked her lips.

Alfalfa coughed.

“What is it Alfalfa?”

Clean Pin risked a glance up. Blueblood had a ‘this had better be good’ expression as he glanced back at his butler.

“The staff plans around your typical schedule your highness.”

“Ah,” his voice cooled, “very well.”

He walked over to his study and sat behind his desk. Alfalfa followed, and reached into his black and silver butler's suit, and pulled out a bundle of letters and pamphlets. Setting them down; he moved behind and to the right of Blueblood. Blueblood rifled through the stack. He set the pamphlets aside, tossed a letter in the trash, and, turning, gave about halve the letters back.

“Deal with these,” he turned back to the letters, as Alfalfa nodded and walked away.

He picked up his silver letter opener with telekinesis; and began opening his letters. He glanced back up, “and get me some tea.”

Alfalfa nodded again; Blueblood started to look down before his eyes caught on the pair of maids. They had been waiting in the same spot; not quite curtsying, not quite standing up.

“Oh, you,” he gestured at them with the letter opener, “as you were.”

The pair glanced at each other. Swift Sweep pointed to the far side of the room. Clean Pin nodded, and walking on eggshells; the pair started to work. They attempted as much as possible to communicate in gestures and expression; only the occasional soft whisper passing between them. A despair for her evening plans started to grow in her. Was the rest of the staff going to come? Did they have to finish the rest of the room by themselves? Would they be dismissed? How long would they work?

Eventually she grew bored with her concern; and started taking glances at the prince. She wondered if they needn’t have bothered staying quiet. The prince did not once look at them. Alfalfa returned with a tea tray, and poured his master a cup; before taking his position. The prince didn’t turn from reading his opened letters; reaching out a hoof to grab his tea without looking. He read most of the letters quickly, then set them aside. For some of them he wrote, sealed, and stamped curt replies. The last three were read over more carefully; a smile softing his face.

Clean Pin hadn’t seen the prince up close before. She still wasn’t that close; Sweep was still leading them along the far rim of the room.

Blueblood, anger gone, now at his ease; was no longer frightening. He was still imposing, easily head and shoulders taller than anyone in the room, but he looked like he was plucked out of a story book. At any moment he might don his armor and belt on his sword; then gallop off to fight dragons and save damsels. With his golden locks and blue…

With a blink she turned her head. Sweep had finished dusting the plinth; and was glaring at her. Clean Pin set down the vase that she had been cradling in her feathers. Swift continued to glare; and gave a curt shake of her head. Clean Pin looked away, blushing. She was just looking. She kept such arguments, and her eyes, to herself however; and soon the pair moved onto cleaning the paintings and statues interspersed between the windows. Then the windows themselves. There was an art to hovering with a soap bucket and rag. The clock struck nine and to her returning dismay; no new staff had made themselves apparent.

Light began to fade to the gold and red of sunset. A huff of irritation had the pair glance at the prince. He was looking out a window; his pen stopped half way down a page.

“If you are by the curtains step away,” a brief few seconds later, his horn lit up and a random stone in the fireplace started to glow with runes and lines of enchantment. Smaller ivory runes lit up on Bronze curtain ends; and the curtains flung themselves closed.

Clean Pin had taken a moment to process her boss's words, and had managed three solid flaps of her wings; before the gust of curtains buffeted her. It was a near thing with the bucket; soapy water cresting inches above the rim.

She expected the room to be a total disaster, but if it wasn’t for the glowing electric lights, rocking drapes and the wide eyed Swift Sweep; she may have thought nothing had happened. Sweep closed her eyes, breathed, then opened calm eyes.

“I had forgotten the room had that functionality,” she murmured, pitching her voice slightly louder she continued, “Let's go back to the vases.”

Clean Pin tilted her head; then glanced at the vases. Then it clicked. They had only managed to clean a rim of the room; and the prince had just stirred the remaining dust.

Clean Pin closed her eyes, and let out a long shuddering breath. She opened her eyes; and turned to the vases.

If she was expecting any sympathy, or even awareness from the Prince; she expected in vain. He pulled a green tome with a bookmark off his book shelf; his stack of pamphlets hovering behind him. He turned and plopped down in his arm chair; and began reading with a smile. She couldn't read the title of the book; but caught a glimpse of a stylized unicorn warrior picked out in gold thread.

She kept the glare off her face as she glanced at Blueblood; any hope for after work plans dying as he continued to not care, or notice, the pair. She seethed in silence; maybe they should just walk out? She looked at Swift Sweep; who continued to work with equal aplomb. She resisted the urge to sigh.

Perhaps it was her mood, or perhaps it was the fire light; but his features struck her now as eerie. It wasn’t until they finished the vases and moved back to the paintings and statues that it clicked. She wanted to smack her forehead.

He looked like his ancestors; all of them. Bright manes, lighter shaded coats, sharp and strong features, and for the older portraits, a pattern of graying; they were shared to a degree between every depiction and the current prince. Over dozens of generations that had married ponies from all over the world.

She stared wide-eyed at the prince of Equestria, the distant nephew of the diarchs, a scion of a family that stretched back to ancient days; she looked back at the window she had to reclean while worrying about getting tangled in the curtains and sighed.

The monotony of cleaning was broken when a bang shook them. The prince was on his feet and pacing; his arm chair tipped back onto the floor. The green book was sitting on an end table; an open pamphlet was clutched in a hoof. He stopped to read a page; his muzzle twisting like he ate something rotten. With a glow, all the pamphlets lifted into the air, and jerked towards the fire. The pile paused mid way. The prince glanced at his tome; then the ceiling mural. He turned to Alfalfa.

“Summon-” his eye caught on the pair, “-ah, you're still here-” for a brief moment Clean Pin’s heart swelled, “-Very good. Lead me to the laundry room.”

Clean Pin stared slack jawed at the prince. Swift Sweep blinked, then curtseyed; Clean pin followed after she closed her mouth.

“Right this way your highness,” Swift Sweep said, before turning for the elevator.

The elevator was spacious; but Clean Pin put Swift Sweep between her and the prince. The ride felt like it went on forever, it took less than a minute, and the elevator dinged and opened. Swift Sweep led them through the fine wood and tile halls of Blood manor. Tapestries, paintings, statues and other finery became less and less frequent the deeper they went. Eventually Swift Sweep turned into an alcove, that one might pass by a dozen times without noticing, and pushed open a door.

The servant corridors, which threaded through the manor like arteries, allowed the swift and silent servicing of the house. Some narrow enough only to allow one pony to walk. Some broad enough to allow push carts and trolleys to move; all were well lit and unadorned.

There were still servants up at this hour, and they stared at the procession like ghosts; before they bowed and curtseyed hurriedly, and got out of the way.

The Laundry was empty this time of night. On sterile white tile where a ranks of washing machines, dyers, ironing boards, washing bins, hampers, wash bins and drying racks. Swift Sweep turned and curtseyed.

“We have arrived, your highness,” she said, “what is it you require of us?”

Blueblood eyed the facility, the sour expression back in full.

“You will teach me how to do laundry,” he stated.

The pair looked at him like he had announced he was a changeling. Then blinked in fright at his narrowing eyes.

“Alri- alright your highness” Swift sweep said, “We will need some dirty clothes to wash. Clean Pin go-“

Blueblood plucked a maids uniform with his telekinesis from a hamper; and plunged it into one of the wheeled hampers used to collect dirty clothes. He tossed the uniform, now dusty and with bits of detritus, at Swift Sweeps hoofs.

What a waste, Clean Pin thought.

“Will that suffice?” Blueblood asked.

Swift Sweep mutely nodded.

“Well first we will need to check what it is made out of…”

And so the four hour lesson for the prince began. Swift Sweep did most of the talking and demonstration; as Clean Pin prepped each next step. She got the powders measured out and the basins filled with water. The prince watched silently; only asking for clarification.

She supposed they should have seen it coming. When the demonstration was done the prince rolled up his suit’s sleeves, cast a wave of ivory magic over himself, dirtied another outfit, and set to work. The servants stared wide eyed at their master as he began to repeat the steps. When he mis-measured the detergent; Clean Pin smile flashed and corrected him without thinking. Her mind caught up a moment later and her career flashed before her eyes; but the prince nodded and poured in the proper amount. After the long tedious process was over; two freshly dried and pressed maid uniforms were back where they started.

The prince looked around the room, looking no less groomed for the work, except for the crumple of his sleeves. He was nodding to himself.

“This is endurable,” he declared.

He turned, and without another word, left; Alfalfa in tow.

The pair waited a moment to see if he had truly gone. Then Clean Pin collapsed onto a bench groaning; starting to massage her legs one by one. Swift Sweep let out a sigh and sat next to her.

“Well,” Swift Sweep pronounced, “Your probationary period is over; you are now a full member of the house staff.”

Clean Pin groaned again.

“Look… I don’t…”

“This is last weeks' pay”

She saw a white envelope profurred in front of her nose. Clean Pin stared at it, and the thought of reading numbers made her brain hurt; but she grabbed and opened it. She read, her eyes bugged out, and reread it more carefully.

“I mean I knew… is this a starting bonus?”

“We are royal employees, and so we have some tax advantages.”

Clean Pin silently stared at the paper; before groaning.

“Same time as last monday?”

“Yes.”

Author's Note

Checks calendar 20 days!

Hopefully I’ll be able to work that down to bi weekly.

Anyway, hope you enjoy.