Prince Blueblood's 'around the palace' persona was not at all different from his public persona. The one he had when just out and about, not the falsely cheery and agreeable one he gave for photo ops. The one caught in candid shots that sold cheap magazines and rag-paper weeklies. He was an arrogant, disagreeable boor with an ego the size of the palace itself.
He used his status and personal wealth to tempt otherwise-reasonable nobles to be his flighty coterie, an ever-changing cloud of clucking yes-ponies walking with him, laughing at his lame jokes or telling him he was wonderful. For that job he also had women. Pretty mares from fine families, enticed by expensive dinners, exclusive performances or pricey jewelry to accompany him around and make him feel like a mighty male. He was not exactly asexual, but most of the temporary female companions were relieved to find out they would not need to accompany him to his bed. Those that did noted he was very careful about protection, both mundane and magical, and performed the deed with a certain urgency. He was interested only in his own pleasure, and dismissed his chosen courtesan the very moment he had completed the act, with a simple assurance that he was certain any issue in the future was not his.
That was the extent of his life. Strutting and preening like any other member of the titled nobility, with an extra dash of ego and self-assurance. His strutting had actually become less grand and public, following a rather embarrassing encounter in the upper terrace with a vacationing constable. The nobles that normally deferred to him had taken to subtle acts of impudence such as by carrying around small glass objects or mentioning the same in his presence. That kept him inside more often than not. In the palace he was untouchable.
The only nobles that came into the palace were careful to mind their manners, already intimidated by the dual presences of his great-aunts. He got that spillover deference and milked it for all it was worth. As well, the various guards and servants of the palace were required to treat him with respect. Almost all of them were so required; Lime Sherbert, an upper-palace chamber maid, actually had far more freedom. She had been taken into Luna's confidence, and was thus untouchable. Disrespecting her was a shortcut to earning Luna's wrath. Blueblood was well aware, from hearing the ringing shouts on suitor days, Luna's wrath involved high-volume chastisement combined with thousand-year-old, genital-withering insults.
Wrapped in the impenetrable cocoon of the palace's aura and secure in his haughtiness, so long as he avoided the upper floors, Blueblood passed indistinguishable days performing most of his favorite activities. He had a smaller coterie of varied nobles to prop up his sense of superiority, and even managed to get a few mares to stroke his ego, though he never asked for more than that, given his limited capacity to pre-pay for more than talk.
Because he did not hold to a normal schedule, and did as he pleased, he often wandered into the kitchen in search of food. His stomach's odd hours meant he was ever too early or too late for the formal dining times. His 'friends' very often had to make do with what they could pick from such excursions; it was one of many reasons there were few, if any, repeats in the group.
The kitchen staff, by and large, ignored him, as they were a busy bunch. And Blueblood, being himself, wholly ignored them, as mere background noise, well beneath him. That held until he found himself in the kitchen, late for lunch. He was in the midst of the aftermath of food preparation, the cleaning and organizing with which he never concerned himself. He happened to look to the side, where a medium-sized iron cauldron was being cleaned. The one doing the cleaning was a jenny.
She was fairly unremarkable as far as donkeys went, a light gray in color with a shining, jet-black mane that bounced in fluffy ringlets, with the typical faintly cream-colored muzzle. Her attire was a standard black-and-white maid outfit, covered by a heavy, water-resistant apron. She had the characteristic knob-knees, though less obviously than many others, as well as the species-standard long ears. But her ears almost seemed especially long, making her head look particularly rabbitlike. It did not help that they seemed to be in constant motion, practically reacting to every move she made, as well as every sound.
She heard Blueblood passing and shot her eyes aside for a brief moment. The moment became heavy, suffused with tension as her eyes met his. A servant looking directly upon one of her bosses. The moment cracked with a scowl and soft snort from Blueblood. With a lift of his head he trotted off, leaving the jenny behind to continue her scrubbing. 'How impudent,' he thought, with and pompous huff, 'A mere scullery maid, the most menial servant, looking upon me, looking in my very eyes! Such cheek. At least I know well it shall never happen again.'
Blueblood had little patience with anyone, as many well knew, but even less patience with servants of any sort, save the one maid that required his patience. He did not have time for their excuses, cajoling, begging, stuttering, whingeing, procrastinating or anything similar. Nobles and other wealthy ponies had the good sense to be discreet, courteous and oblique. That was greatly preferable.
He didn't bother eating lunch. He skipped dinner as well, at least the formal dinner served in the dining hall. He had food delivered to his private suite, and demanded it be brought up personally, rather than be sent up via the dumbwaiter. Nopony complained to his face, though he was sure that they did so when he turned away. The repast was brought up via a large wheeled cart, clattering faintly with the covers on the trays and the crystal glass and decanters. The serving pony brought the cart in under Blueblood's scowl and left with nothing but the cart and his cold huff. There were no kind words for the faceless kitchen pony, but then, there were never words at all.
The next day Blueblood loitered in the kitchen after stuffing his gob with whatever choice morsels fell under his gaze, and after letting his small knot of tag-alongs graze on what remained. He did not explain the action; he was not usually so kind as to let them finish eating, which frequently necessitated ungentlecoltly scarfing and stuffing. That day, however, he was all over the kitchen, silently noting small stains, using his horn to prod at food he thought questionable, and generally looking to critique everything under his gaze.
He caught sight of something in the corner of his eye and cleared his throat loudly, drawing all eyes to him. “It's a wonder we're not all in the palace infirmary every day. Dirty floors and cooking equipment, questionable produce, disorder and chaos everywhere. Come along, we must be out of this place before anything untoward happens.”
Blueblood practically pushed the confused collection of stallions out of the room, while just out of sight a huge pair of gray ears fell.
It was a week before Blueblood ventured into the kitchen again, having been content to have his meals brought up. He seemed particular petulant during that time, scowling and glaring whenever he was seen by a servant. His trips around the palace were short and stilted, his attempts at leading nobles were very perfunctory, and he completely abandoned his monetary seduction of mares.
His return sortie into the kitchen was alone, a quick trip for a casual repast of pastry and tender flower petals. After scattering the stems and crumbs he cast his eye around the room, catching gray peaks lifted high over a distant counter. “Well! This is a fine state! Stems and crumbs! It's as if no one in this place knows how to clean.” A smile spread across his face as the jenny's head rose up shyly, eyes turned aside. “If this is how things are done then my opinion of the palace workforce is correct.”
The maid was out I a flash, with a dustpan and small broom, tending to the dropped bits with small words of contrition, the loudest being, “Forgive my inattention, sir.”
There was no direct reply from the bulky unicorn. He merely swept his mane back and trotted casually off. “Imagine, letting messes pile up. Inefficiency. That is certainly no way to organize a staff. Perhaps there needs to be a shakeup.”
The threat hung in the air, and lingered there with grim implications. The threat hardly seemed idle, given the regular appearance of a cold-eyed Blueblood. He assessed the performance of every kitchen worker, giving slight nods of his head or shakes as things met his approval or fell short of his standards. Through it all he was silent, letting himself be felt, projecting power with a mere presence.
His most common criticism fell upon the poor jenny's long-eared head. He spent many an hour watching her lobes bobbing as she worked, and his eyes would narrow in judgment with every task undertaken. She adjusted her sweeping techniques at least five times before they stopped bringing scorn; her mopping, seven times; her scrubbing no less than twelve. She never complained. She only obeyed, and often apologized with the words, “I will do better, sir.”
The strange behavior did not go unnoticed for long. Several weeks later Blueblood was intercepted on his way down into the kitchen by Lime Sherbert. “Prince Blueblood. How unusual to find you down here. It seems beneath your grand eminence.”
Blueblood ground his teeth before pulling a large and insincere smile. The one servant he never wanted to see. “And you... as I recall you are a chamber maid of the upper reaches. What brings you down to the depths?”
“Investigating a rumor. I have heard through the palace gossip channels that there was a noble of some import down in the kitchen threatening the staff with firing and generally being an oafish bother. Now of course I know that you could never be an oafish bother or some sort of boor, churl or lout, prince. But there have been whispers of the same and I felt it would benefit from my looking into the matter. Perhaps I could get her Majesty to look into the situation and castigate the offender with some choice words...”
“No!” Blueblood adjusted his lapels and coughed softly into his hoof. “Now, what I meant was that there really is no need to get great-auntie Luna involved. I would hate to see her bothered for such a trivial matter. Now, let me pass on to get a bit to eat. I will see if anypony matching that description is down there. Perhaps by being there I can chase them off. I am very important, after all. Knowing that I am looking into the matter just might provide the solution.”
“If anypony could spot a churlish oaf it would be you, prince. You seem to have a capability for being there when they appear. It's like magic. Very well, then, I will keep from informing her Majesty of this matter, providing the rumors cease. That will prove your great skill and influence. Other ponies might even respect you. Oh, not that they don't! Such a silly slip of the tongue.” Lime grinned broadly and gave a mocking curtsey. “Good day, prince.”
“Yes yes, good day.” Blueblood's smile dropped the moment he was out of sight and a shiver ran along his huge body. He really dodged a situation. Though he had received a temporary reprieve from Luna's wrath he could not count on that continuing if he persisted in his endeavors.
He ate quickly, but carefully. He made certain that no crumbs spilled, that his plates were clear of detritus before he set them aside for washing and that he did not give any negative indications towards any member of staff. Before leaving, however, he made a request of the kitchen overseer. “I want my usual tonight, with three beverages, and use fresher herbs. I can taste the difference, you know. But when it is brought up to my suite I insist that it be brought by that jenny.”
“You mean Connie, sir?” The overseer, a plump puce unicorn in a black vest peered curiously at Blueblood then looked aside to the donkey he had named, who was washing the dishes the prince had just put aside.
“Is that her name? I can hardly be bothered to learn the names of every servant in this palace. If that is her name then that is her name. It does not matter. I insist that she be the one to deliver it to me. I will send the plates down on the dumbwaiter, as usual. Do you understand?”
“Of course, sir. It will be done as you wish.” The overseer bowed, biting back any comment about how strange the request was, and banishing from his mind all the potential implications or outcomes. There was no evidence that Blueblood was... strange. Other than the jokes told in the servants' quarters, but that concerned a far different class of strangeness than the dire warnings about other noble ponies. Blueblood was no Marquise Morning Star, after all.
That evening Blueblood awaited a knock on his door, his magic opening it wide the moment the first impact sounded. It was such a quick motion that Connie swayed a bit when her hoof found itself swinging through the air. “Your supper, as requested, sir.” She wheeled the cart inside with a slight tremble. “The chef wanted me to note that he used only fresh-plucked herbs for your food tonight, sir.”
A soft grunt emerged from the heavy unicorn, his eyes on the servant, rather than the cart. He came up to her, his imposing stature made all the more clear with his sudden, silent proximity.
Connie swallowed hard and attempted to lick her dry lips without looking too impudent. “W-will... will there be anything else, sir?”
Blueblood loomed, looking down with his piercing eyes. One hoof slowly came up, soft feathering swaying with the motion. He looked ready to bring it forward, against the bowed-headed jenny, but suddenly thrust it to the side, pointing out of the door.
“Very well, sir. Have a good evening, sir.” Connie quickly set the trays, decanters and crystal glass out on a nearby table and pushed the cart towards the door.
“Hold.”
Connie held just outside the door, a tremble passing down her back, her teeth clenching tight. “Y-yes, sir?”
Blueblood strolled up to the door frame, and looked down on Connie with a serious expression. After gazing on her, though not quite in her face, for a long moment he noted, “Your ears are long.” Then the door closed with a stern thud, leaving the maid utterly confused.