Thick heavy cuffs with red glowing runes are clamped around her thin wrist the moment she is dragged outside of her cell. They prevent anyone who wears them from doing magic. Even though her magic was weak and not worth even mentioning it seems her jailors weren't taking a chance. Strong metal chains weigh her arms down with one guard on each end, yanking her forward.
"Hurry up!" One of them barks.
"Crazy lunatic, we can finally be rid of you," The other grumbles.
Livia keeps her head down and her steps quick, but she peeks through the thick mess of her purple hair to get a look around.
Thin fingers cling to metal bars as gaunt faces watch them pass with dark envy. Some of her cellmates even dare to call out, to plead with the stoic guards, but their voice falls on ears who refuse to hear them. At the end of the cellblock is a deceptively normal door that goes unguarded. As they draw closer, a small sheen of light wraps around the edges of the door, outlining it briefly before it opens.
Even a few feet away, the light outside makes her flinch a bit and cause her to squint. The prison had little to no light. It was a strain on her eyes to step outside, but she was quick to breathe in the fresh air of the night. The two moons were at full mass above her head and lit up the courtyard in a soft glow.
It hadn't even been that long since she was thrown in here.
Three days.
That's how long it took to decide her fate.
She was no longer wearing her ball gown. She was dressed in grey rags like all the other prisoners.
Livia stumbles a bit when she is tugged outside, her arms aching and turning red from the rough treatment. The prison, small as it is, was still encased in large stone walls with only one entrance at the front of it. Straight ahead is a wagon that has a large cage attached to the end. A few other prisoners were already slumping inside of it.
She was finally being transferred.
'To my death or to me exile?'
She didn't know.
After being forcefully removed from her own party with her sister's pleas still ringing in her ears, she had been deposited in a dank cold prison a few hours away from the Academy.
Livia hadn't gone quietly. She had struggled and rage like the original would have. She had made arrogant demands and threats while grappling with her captures. She got a large swelling bump on her temples for her troubles after one of the guards got fed up and rammed the end of his sword upside her head to quiet her.
It was now a dark purple bruise that still throbbed after going untreated. Along with her persistent headache from the flood of memories she had gotten at the debutante, Livia's head felt like a volcano that could erupt at any second.
She likely was suffering a concussion but refused to beg for help. Instead, she suffered in silence, trying to fight off the grip of sleep for fear she wouldn't awaken from it ever again. She also had tried to swallow the vile stuff they called food, but all it did was make her feel sicker, and so she hadn't had a proper meal since her debutante.
Since the three days, she had been taken she hadn't been told anything. Instead, she was made to stew in worry over her fate while suffering from sleep deprivation, hunger, and her injuries and now she was being moved.
Rough hands shoved her into the cage where she nearly tripped over one of the prisoners. She glared at the guards but they were already retreating. Before she could get her bearings the wagon lurched forward.
"W-wait! Where are you taking me?" She tried to yell but her voice comes out weak and hoarse.
How barbaric! At least have the gall to state what my fate is to be to my face, She thinks with gritted teeth, straightening herself into a sitting position by an elderly man.
"You don't know?"
"Know what?" Livia snaps, looking to the woman straight across from her who had spoken.
She should probably be nicer. She no longer had an act to keep up after all, but she couldn't help but be prickly. She was in the worse shape she has ever been in her entire life as Livia, and it was a harsh change of pace. From being pampered and waited on to suffering from a simple affliction as hunger.
It took some adaption.
She wasn't going to magically be okay.
Livia hadn't even begun to truly analyze her newfound memories, not when just the thought of her old life brought a deep sense of regret and loss. No. That was something to think about later. When she wasn't in the middle of her own bad ending.
"We are being exiled to the rural area at the edges of the Kingdom. They announced it last night right before the meal was served," The woman says, looking her over with kind hazel eyes.
'I must have passed out at some point then', Livia thinks grimly.
A dim part of her is happy, it really is. She managed to dodge her own death flag. She does feel relief. The Crown Prince had shown her mercy in the end, and she has little doubt that it was her sister that swayed his mind. But another part is just still overwhelmed. Stunned. The fictional stories she once read made it seem like being in another world would be more thrilling in exciting. Livia couldn't even focus on that. She could only put all her energy in move forward mechanically to her own end goal.
Oh, by the way. She remembers what that was now.
Step One: Trigger my death flag as soon as possible.
Step Two: Avoid the said death flag.
Step Three: Be Exiled.
That was it.
That was the grand plan.
'But why?'
She didn't know. She just knew that was what she had been striving for since she was a child. Even before her memories returned. She somehow acted towards her goal on her own subconsciously.