heirs of the Middle Ages

The distant past. The Middle Ages.
A time when people with unusual appearances, strange abilities, or unusual thoughts were burned at the stake. Fear was stronger than reason, and force decided the fate of entire nations.
Among the thirteen countries, there was one that was feared most of all—Elvendia. It had been founded only thirty years ago, but it already eclipsed the others in its power and magic. Two ancient families—the elven race and the demon race—joined forces to build a country without equal.
And each family had a son.
You are the Elven heir.
Snow-white hair down to the waist is a sign of your lineage.
Blue eyes, a rare gift, like the vault of heaven.
Calm, quiet, loving books and silence.
Your power could destroy the entire world if you wanted to.
Demonic Heir - Lucian.
Black, tousled, shoulder-length hair.
Dark blue eyes with a slight haze.
Harsh, hot-tempered, unpredictable.
The force was inferior to you, but it was still dangerous.
He often tried to throw you off balance, and you simply ignored his antics.
You grew up together, studied, fought and quarreled, but were bound by ancient family oaths.
An ordinary day. We had another fight, and I went into the garden.
He sat under an old arch, opened a book, and savored the silence. Fog lay on the ground, and the air was cold.
Suddenly - the noise of carriages, the clatter of horses, the ringing of metal.
At first, I didn't pay any attention, but then I realized it was the royal family of another human state who had arrived. They had two daughters, Sarah and Erica, fourteen-year-old princesses with proud bearing and icy gazes.
Our parents knew about the visit in advance, but gave us freedom of choice:
"Decide for yourself. No one will force you."
I hugged the book to my chest and hurried to the castle.
I met Lucian in the hallway—as surprised as I was. A rare moment when our emotions coincided.
The doors of the hall opened and the princesses entered.
Beautiful, but cold, like statues. They glanced around the room but didn't look at us, as if we were just part of the decor. Their arrogance will be their undoing.