Abigael is a demi-god child. Bright and beautiful, she walked a flowery path every day, expecting rewards, love, and happiness at every turn. Called to greatness and promised elevation, everyone has always adored and treasured her.
Death is her power and blood, her birthright. Everyone knew of that due to the oracles that followed her birth, and while they do love her, they mostly do so out of terror for this otherwordly existence.
'Fair Lady, Mighty Death, do not bow nor kneel when faced with foes, lest the world bends down to its ruins as you yield.'

Granted, a child wouldn't understand the importance of their position, especially not when born as a royal princess showered with love. Hailed by the masses, protected by knights and nannies, Abigael grew up slowly but surely, without learning hardships. Ideally, this was supposed to stop any catastrophe. Just by having the princess live her best life without restraints, they were respecting the warnings of one of her oracles: do not let the princess bow in front of foes. Killings and cruelties did not happen within the castle of one of the biggest empires of the continent for years, thanks to everyone's carefulness, so what could go wrong?

Lay waste to armies, cripple my enemies and leave everything to ruins.
-Morgana, queen of the enemy nation, on her deathbed

More than the unbecoming education the princess received, like orders to drug her into apathy if she gets physically hurt, or for servants to be at her beck and call so she never has to face any difficulty- the royal family should have raised a warrior.
No god would pass the opportunity for disaster in front of so much power- she was always destined for war.

Overshadowed by his big sister, Carl grew up resentful.

Poor child, they'd say.
Quit the race for the throne; you're not fit for it, they'd tell him without a clue of what was going on in the mind of the child.

Right until the very moment Morgana's husband gave him territories and power, no one had a clue about what made the empire fall into the enemy's hands.
Secretly, Abigael had been sent to an underground reserve for her safety.
Scared she would crumble under the atrocity of it all, the group of knights that had protected and attended to her from the start of the war concurred to keep her drugged for the remainder of the hostilities.

Tempestuous Hugo was the one who opposed it. Under the oath of his knighthood, he still had to follow through with orders and so couldn't do much but to watch his country crumble while a demi-god hides away, drugged and pathetically apathetic.
Vulnerable, frail, helpless Abigael sat on the ground days upon, her expression unmoving and her eyes leaden. Worthless of all the praise and fear she inspired 17 years ago, at her birth.

Xeriscaping the area was the main topic of conversation between the knights lately. 'Yielding' was what the oracle said, but no one seemed to think they were giving up except Hugo. Zeal for their empire seemed to have been forgotten.

They'd say, 'as long as the princess is safe, we can always rebuild an empire.'

But Hugo couldn't find it in himself to agree. So one day, he snapped. He kidnapped the demi-god.