What was left of the vile concoction this place served bubbled away in front of her, whatever it was had the basic ingredients necessary to know that happiness was at the bottom of the tankard. The more she stared at it the more it seemed to stare back, daring her to just try and finish the dregs it presented before her. Even having gotten slightly more used to the quality of the beverages she encountered on the road, there was still the remnants of a high-class tongue refusing to yield to low standards. The daily weighing up of the consequences of just leaving kicked in. It would be a mercy to her taste buds but the alternative was sobriety, which was out of the question these days. She stayed, she always stayed.
She came to this tavern immediately after a job; she had not changed out of her armour or even bothered to drop off her sword in her lodgings. The tavern itself had a rustic feel, accentuated by the wooden beams, fire place and a small but loud smattering of people. Judging from the previous times she had come here you were more likely to be thrown out if you were not armed to the teeth, angry locals always looking for any weakness and an easy fight. Over the years she came to judge that sort of behaviour less and less, the way things were people needed to find ways to vent their frustration. The intellectuals argued whilst the thugs fought, she found herself sliding into the latter category as the years on the road went by. She already had a slight reputation there; she was Kira the quiet guard for hire in the corner of the Tavern. She would bring no trouble, drink until she could barely walk, then stagger out. The job she had just come from involved no small amount of violence, protecting what little useful farmlands that remained from raiders. It paid well and was easy enough. Take down one or two and the rest scatter as prolonged fighting does not benefit anyone, it's much easier to fall back to try and hit somewhere unguarded or even ration out the supplies a little longer, an advantage gained from fallen comrades is less mouths to feed.
The money she got for the work would feed her for a week or so but now was the time for drowning sorrows and doing her best to forget the world around her. She was still in the staring match with her drink when one of the locals approached her, clearly deciding it was time to vent frustrations.
"Well if it isn't an imperial gracing us with her presence" he said.
"Who says I'm an imperial?" she said, not looking up from the drink.
"The insignia might be hidden under those fancy carvings but I recognise imperial armour when I see it," he said.
She was sat back, her feet up on the chair across the table. She looked up to see that he was a large man but nothing she could not handle. Her military training all those years ago after the first attack put her combat skills a cut above your average bar brawler, also having made a living off mercenary work for four years she was right to be confident. Having analysed there was minimal threat she looked back down at her drink without saying a word. The silent treatment aggravated him.
"We don't like imperials here," he continued.
"Not many places do," she replied, weighing up whether to play it calm of make a show of force. As it stood it was just hot air from a drunken idiot.
"But even worse is when a freak like you saunters in like she owns the place," he said.
Even the imperial design of her armour paled in comparison to the number of fights caused by her scarring. People often assumed she had received magical favour or was some warped offspring of demons they knew all too well. Her entire right eye was ice-blue, as were the streaks coming down from it to her jawline. She had journeyed to Corona early in her mercenary career, seeking to heal the damage that had been done. Even the healer's knowledge of magic over there could not save her from these icy markings. She was told restoring sight in the eye was simple enough but removing the magical properties that kept the ice in the scarring would have destroyed the eye outright. Mercenary work was dangerous enough with perfect eyesight so she chose against removing the marks. She considered a mask as part of her battle armour but that drew an even larger amount of the wrong sort of attention, showing she had something to hide only heightened intrigue into her identity. It was easier to hide as an imperial freak than as a mystery. One thing she had learned for sure, her facial markings and scars could draw in the aggression of those with a chip on their shoulder, like the man standing at her table right now.
"I have every right to pick you up and throw you through that door" he said, pointing the tavern's front doors.
"I've got my own score to settle with Arendelle's empire and its leaders you know" she said
"Your armour and the abomination on your face say otherwise," he said.
This had gone on long enough; if she let this man speak any longer the patrons would see her as timid or worse people might think she still had an actual connection to the imperial army. She slowly took her feet off the chair and planted them firmly on the ground. Then in flash sprang up, grabbed the man, pulled him toward her and the top of her skull met his face, none of the other patrons batted an eyelid at this turn of events. The move had been so fast he barely knew what had happened as an explosion of teeth emanated from his mouth. She grabbed the back of his neck and slammed his head down on the table. His responses were a groan of pain, followed by muffled begging and a fair amount of struggling.
"Well look who it is"
The voice came from behind her, for a split-second she was worried the man had a friend that she had failed to notice and fully braced for a blind-side hit. However when no hit came and she processed the sounds it became evident this was not the case, the voice even seemed familiar. She turned round and instantly recognised this man. He had hardly changed since the day they had met, his clothes were significantly plainer and there was tiredness in his eyes that no smirk could hide but standing before her was Hans. If she was not already occupied with the current act of violence she would have jumped Hans immediately.
"You've got a lot of nerve approaching me" she said, she was pleased that the scene before him conveyed the right sort of message to Hans.
"Well yes, but before you do to me what you've done to that unfortunate soul I'd just like you to hear me out" Hans said, as calm and soft-spoken as he was when they first met. It was somewhat disarming and she was not helped by the man on the table recovering from the initial hit and his resistance rapidly increasing. She grabbed the wrist so his hand was splayed out on the table, took a knife from her belt and stabbed through. The blade effortlessly cut clean through the hand and into the table beneath it. He yelled out in pain as he witnessed the crude method to stick him in place.
"I'm not done with you," she said to him and turned to face Hans.
"Hear you out? You think I'm just going to forget what you did to me?" she said.
"I'm not here for a fight," Hans said, making a show of melodramatically grimacing at the scene in front of him.
"Well what if I am?" she said, placing her hand on her sword hilt.
"Don't try and take the moral high ground, thanks to your invasion forces my home is ashes and the few surviving members of my family are puppets for your empire, so I'd say we're about even" Hans said, if he was scared of her, it did not show.
"I'm not responsible for what the Empress has done" She loosened her grip on her sword hilt and sighed "And it's not my fault you lost your little war,"
"The fighting at least caused enough chaos for me to escape that place," Hans said
"Cowardly to the last" she said.
"Choosing to fight against an infinite and unfeeling army was suicide, they chose their fate and I chose to ignore their pointless last stand," he checked his nails and looked back at her "besides I'm clearly not the only one who chose to run away from their problems"
"You're as cold and heartless as you were seven years ago" she said.
"I don't let it get to me because I can't afford to dwell on it, if I did then I may as well give up on everything right now," Hans said. This was the first display of anything other than a calm, collected attitude. She was taken aback by the sudden emotion. He paused to regain composure, took a deep breath and continued.
"Look, I'm willing to put all this aside because I have something very important to discuss with you." Hans said, whilst she knew he was a master of deception, in truth she missed the times when her human interaction was not exclusively demanding payment, ordering drinks with various levels of toxicity, or similar to that of her new friend stuck to the table behind her.
Hans then spoke very quietly.
"Besides I think you'll be interested, it's in regards to our illustrious Empress, mistress of the ice herself."
Her eyes widened. The main reason she was looking to constantly get blind drunk in the first place were the problems the Elsa had brought upon her and every land that had been annexed or destroyed on Arendelle's ruthless path to dominance. She squinted, contemplating how to approach this offer. She would have to be careful and make it very clear that any hint of trickery would be met harshly.
"If anything looks or feels wrong I won't hesitate to end you," she said
"Fair enough, I'd be stupid to think I could expect your trust," Hans said.
"Well?" she said
"I'd prefer somewhere quieter, anyone could be listening and I'd prefer not to have to whisper the entire conversation" Hans said
"I'll listen to what you have to say, but if I don't like it then I never want to see you again. Are we clear?" she said
"Crystal" Hans said
"Fine, I have my own lodgings nearby" she said.
She turned around and took her knife back out of the table and man's hand respectively.
"It's your lucky day" she said, it was either pain or shock that had rendered the man unconscious. He looked too pathetic slumped on the bloody table with significantly less teeth than he started with to bring down any further wrath on anyway.
"Lead the way princess," Hans said gesturing toward the door; he seemed to revel in trying to provoke her. It was an odd tactic but at least she knew that Hans was still similar to his old self, better the devil you know than the devil you do not.
"Don't ever call me that again," she said as she headed off.
"Then what do I call you?" he said.
"Kira, just call me Kira" she said.