So, I thought too much about Vladimir and Léon and so on, and they got scrambled up in my thoughts of medieval Wallachia, and somehow Equestria became the equivalent of the Ottoman Empire, Vladimir and Blueblood became two separate ponies (but brothers), and Vladimir became the warrior hero of his people - I mean ponies!
Princess Celestia gets a bad rap here, and I think FiM canon has gone out the window, but it's only meant as a bit of fun. Hopefully some other people might find it fun to read, I certainly enjoyed writing it :) I hope it's not too off-topic: Léon is in there!
Walmaneia is a rubbish name, it just came about from Wallachia, Romania and mane. Sounds more like an American supermarket chain than a proud principality :lol:
I now feel the need to find myself a Blueblood toy (does he even exist as a toy?), fit him out with a little sword and call him Vladimir....
Spoiler
They were born to be the Princes of Walmaneia, and yet Prince Vladimir and his younger brother Prince Blueblood spent their colthood at the court of Celestia, Princess of Equestria; their father took them on a diplomatic trip there when they were but small, and then left them behind. It was said they were guests, and indeed they were treated well and allowed every luxury - every luxury, that is, except freedom. The language and ways of Equestria were at first strange to them, and, despite the Princess' best attempts, they never fully grasped the native religion of Friendship.
Other than that, however, the captivity affected them quite differently: Vladimir grew resentful of his captors, but Blueblood embraced many of their ways. Blueblood was the better-looking of the siblings; he revelled in the attention paid to him by the mares of the court, flirted with them, dressed in fine clothes, delighted in attending social events where he could see and be seen. The life of an indolent aristocrat suited him well, and he recognised that it was only at the sophisticated Court of Equestria that he could enjoy it: Walmaneia was too rough and ready a country, and its princes were warriors rather than pampered royals. A Walmaneian prince had to be always ready to fight for his independence as the surrounding countries and empires squabbled over territories and tried to swallow the little principality whole - that life would never now suit Blueblood, who spent all his time parading in his finery, dancing at balls, and having secret rendezvous in the rose garden with high-ranking mares. It was said that he had once scored a kiss from the lips of Princess Celestia herself.
Vladimir, however, retained his warrior nature; the luxuries that Blueblood found enchanting only made him more resentful. He looked at Princess Celestia and saw more than just a beautiful and benevolent rainbow-haired goddess of Friendship, as so many believed her to be. He saw her secret political machinations, the way she had turned the simple impulse of one pony to befriend and trust another into an all-encompassing religion that well suited her own ambitions. She called herself a Princess, and yet she had the powers of a Queen or an Empress, and bound many of the lesser kingdoms and principalities in the bonds of vassalage. The Crystal Empire pledged fealty to her, and Yakyakistan paid tribute in gold and in strong warriors to fight those who opposed her.
She called Vladimir and Blueblood her nephews, which was true enough in its way: they were the distant descendants of her mother's sister, who had married into Walmaneian royalty to seal some long-ago treaty. But that had all happened many generations ago, for the Princess was many centuries old, and Vladimir sometimes wondered what it did to a pony, to live so long, to see so many come and go. Did it blind one to the true importance of other ponies? Did their lives seem worthless for being so short? Did they come to seem like pawns to play with? She took students to teach magic, and controlled them as if they were puppets; perhaps the whole of Equestria was simply her puppet theatre.
It was said that she was benevolent and loving - the graceful paragon of Friendship! - but she was ruthless too. She had banished her own sister to the moon, and Vladimir knew she had banished others too, banished them using a magical mirror that no one was supposed to know about (and yet how was a captive Walmaneian prince to pass his time if not by spying?). Those who opposed her always seemed to end up disappearing, and, unlike the honest rough-and-ready punishments of Walmaneia, not even a body was left behind. It was as if she erased them entirely, like unwanted characters erased from a story by a scribble of a writer's quill. She was the great puppet-master of Equestria, but, by the hooves of the great God Zalmoxis, Vladimir would never let her control his strings.
He played along and bided his time, waited for his moment.
His father was killed in one of the wars that so often troubled Walmaneia. Little Prince Léon, Vladimir's young nephew, was named as successor, but he was far too young to rule, and served only as a figurehead while the high-ranking lords squabbled over their own petty concerns and let the country run to ruin.
The Princess told Vladimir that now was the time to return and take up the reins of his country (a strange old expression that, 'take up the reins'. Nopony really knew quite what it meant). She smiled as she said it, for she believed she had power over him, believed she had converted him to her ways, believed that he would renew the oaths of fealty that his father had once sworn. Perhaps she thought that one day he too might turn over his sons as hostages to ensure his continued good behaviour, and allow her to fill their minds with her twisted friendship creed.
He said nothing of his true feelings. He let her provide him with soldiers, with swift-flying pegasi, strong earth ponies, unicorns versed in battle spells. He would take what he needed from her, just as she herself never hesitated to take what she wanted from other lands. He left Blueblood behind, for he was happy enough with his romantic intrigues, and would never pose a serious threat to the Walmaneian throne. Perhaps Celestia would try to use Blueblood against him one day; perhaps she would threaten harm to Blueblood to ensure Vladimir's compliance. It mattered not; Blueblood was nothing to him now. Blueblood had given up all right to be called a prince of Walmaneia, while saving his torn-apart country was all Vladimir cared about.
He would use Celestia's own mercenaries to take back the country, and as soon as he was secure on his throne, he would withdraw his fealty to Equestria - he had yet to swear any formal oath, anyway - and stop paying the annual tribute. It would lead to war, no doubt - well, let it be so! It was time someone opposed mighty Equestria. As the old Walmaneian poet said: "Life in freedom - or else death!" There was nothing better than freedom: his long captivity had taught him that.
He would not harm Léon. The young colt might yet be useful. He could be taught the right way to lead a country still, and it was as well to have an heir. But the lords who squabbled and ran the country to ruin - well, they would be given a chance to mend their ways, of course. Just one chance. But if they forfeited that chance, there would be no second chance, and the punishments he would inflict would make exile to the moon seem as nothing. He had learnt one thing from Princess Celestia at least: though her subjects might profess to love her, in truth they feared her; and fear was a stronger commander of loyalty than any love. Soon, very soon, the world would fear Prince Vladimir just as much. Tales of his deeds would run through the land, and only in Walmaneia would they truly know what a hero he was. He might not be able to raise the sun, but, by the mane of Zalmoxis, he would raise his poor suffering country from the ashes!