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Warriors was very lucky that Legend was one of the groups later risers, because otherwise he would have to use his pocket mirror to get ready every morning. And after discovering the mirror shield, there was no way he could go back to shaving in a two by two inch mirror.
He had set up at the outskirts of camp, the early morning air fresh in his lungs. Half of camp was still asleep, only Time, Twilight, and Wild were awake, the others dead to the world in their various bedrolls and blanket piles. The reflective shield was leaned up against a convenient tree, the light hitting just right for Warriors' face to not be hidden in an awkward shadow. It made the process much easier if he had a clear view of his face.
He'd already gone down to the stream nearby to clean his face and wash his hair, so the hardest of the work was already done. His hair would take forever to dry in the cool air, but he refused to take a towel to it. If only he was home in his castle apartment… he missed his hair straightening tools. But for now he would have to settle for tugging at his curls obsessively until they gave up and settled for being waves.
His tools were set out before him in a perfect line. Concealer to hide his facial scars, dark circles, and beauty marks, eyeliner to bring out his eyes, contour to sharpen his cheekbones, rouge to make him look more alive, and a balm for his lips so they wouldn't grow chapped as fast. One never knew when a portal would appear after all, and he couldn't risk ending up in his home area unpresentable. Many things were expected of him back home, including beauty worth going to war for. The people liked to think that at least they fought and died and suffered for something flawless. They could never know how pathetic he truly was, it would start a mob racing for pitchforks and torches.
He dealt with enough assassination attempts as it was.
The small pot of cream, that he had taken forever to color match to his skin, felt impossibly heavy in his hand as he dipped into it with a brush. It wasn't his usual set of brushes of course, those had been a gift from Zelda when he was named Hero, and much too precious to drag around on another journey. They had already been through one war, unlike him, they could avoid a second.
He was careful to not press too hard as he placed the thick cream beneath his eyes where the shadows of too many nightmares sat, accusing. If he gave himself wrinkles from something as stupid as tugging at his face he would lose it. Cia once told him that when she won her prize she would stop his aging, that he would stay beautiful for eternity. He hadn't been sure if she meant to use time magic or turn him to a statue and mount him as her trophy somewhere. He had hoped for the latter.
When he found out the reason for Cia's involvement in the war he had attempted to take a dagger to his face, hoping he could deter her affections. Impa had taken the knife from his trembling hands and told him it would be bad for optics.
With brighter under eyes he looked less exhausted, Warriors mused. No stranger would know how little he slept some nights, how often he made an aborted motion towards one of his many hidden daggers before he remembered the people shifting around him were fellow heroes, not traitors aiming to have his head or trade him off for peace.
Next up we're his beauty marks, they grew all over his body, small and visually striking. He quite liked the look of them, but at court it was only fashionable to have one or two in strategic places. Only the one below his left eye and the other brushing his jaw were allowed to stay intact. At least he didn't have to stick them on like most nobles.
The scars on his face were a different story. There was one set he covered in shame and one he bared to the world as a form of apology.
The thin scar through his lips, given to him by one of his own squad mates, his friend, stayed visible. The odd looks he received for it were the price he payed for cutting the traitor down without hesitation. Besides, the people wanted to see that he had suffered too.
The other was a reminder of his greatest failure, of his own ego. Of the first time he met her face to face, and she forever marked him as hers.
The thin scars traveling from his jaw to his cheekbone were claw like, he could lie and say they were a parting gift from a wolfos. But he knew the truth, would never forget her delighted smile and crooning voice as she dug her sharp nails into his soft flesh and tore him open. He did not like to look at them and be reminded of what a coward he was, the way he had frozen in terror. So the concealer was smeared over and he could pretend for a few hours that he was not damaged goods.
As if knowing what he was thinking, Time looked over at him from the fire, his eye just as serious as ever. Even as a ten year old the man had been all stony looks and pouting bottom lips. It was good to know that not all things changed. Warriors gave him a practiced grin, just lopsided enough to seem genuine while still being charming. He had spent hours practicing it with Zelda and Impa, he had to be able to inspire his troops. They could never know how scared or upset he was.
Time squinted his eye, not fully buying his ruse, but he didn't approach so Warriors counted it as a win. Even his forest sprite could have trouble seeing through his facade and for that he was lucky. They never would've won the war if Mask had decided to intervene with his health. Mostly because when Mask was worried he tended to cling and it was hard to fight battles with a ten year old stuck to his side. Not for lack of trying though. After the kid got knocked out by Cia herself on the battlefield, he started placing him further back. It had been an entire week of arguing between the two of them, Tune running back and forth with messages across their shared tent since Mask refused to speak to him and Warriors was too upset over Mask nearly dying at his feet to listen to anything he had to say.
He glanced over at Time again, the man was inspecting his gear with that endearingly familiar crease between his brows.
Warriors was so eternally thankful to have him back, even if it didn't last long. He'd been mourning the loss of his little brother for the last three years. Losing him and Tune was a part of the reason he had taken up drinking, the rest of course, being the entirety of the war. He had just wanted to forget, and that was very easy when one was more alcohol than person. He'd been trying to stop for the last year though, Linkle worried and he didn't want to die young and leave her alone again. There were still slip ups though. Bad ones. Zelda had ordered the castle staff to not let him have access to the stuff. She didn't know about the bottles in the back of his wardrobe behind his boots. Or the flask he usually had on hand.
He removed evidence of the last nail mark and moved on to another small pot of cream, this one a light brown that blended into the shadows of his face perfectly. He carved out his cheekbones and jaw, he had to look statuesque. Even if most days it made him squirm. Cia was still watching him, being the guardian of time and all. She was probably loving this. She still eyed him hungrily whenever her and Lana reported to the castle, but she had yet to lay a hand on him. Small mercies.
Next was rouge, applied to the apples of his cheeks and dusted ever so slightly over his nose. He concealer tended to wash him out too much, he had to look awake and alive. And worth fighting for, that was always what it came back to wasn't it. He was not allowed to just be as he was, he had to be so much more. He couldn't just leave the court though, he had duties to attend to, knights to train, reports to read.
Zelda had attempted to honorably discharge him after the war ended, he had begged her to let him stay.
He didn't have anything else to return to. His only family was his sister and she lived in Castletown, he would never ask her to upturn her life for him, he had already done it once, when he joined the army, and look how that had turned out. Their parents abandoned them when they were little, left them to an orphanage in the outskirts of Castletown.
They had left that orphanage when they were both fifteen and one of the people living next to the place took an interest in him. Linkle had put a stop to that after she found him crying about being watched. They'd moved to a different part of the city after that, not wanting to risk another run in with that creep. It was why he had started bleaching and straightening his hair, he hadn't wanted to be recognized. Then he'd become the Hero and he got stuck in the look. Heroes were always blonde anyway right? (They weren't, but he didn't know that until later)
He had only worked briefly as a tailor's apprentice before the war began, and then he'd enlisted just before the drafting began, because he wanted to keep his sister safe and she was threatening to join herself. Plus the money he earned meant she could keep living in their tiny flat and keep her job at the mail carriers' office. He didn't know life outside of war anymore, he needed the structure of military life or he would crumble beneath it all.
Zelda had let him keep his position, even set him up in the castle like a proper noble. As if they hadn't had to give him speech classes to cover up his low class accent, the courtiers would be beside themselves if they learned their precious war prize was just a street kid. Most days he didn't even use his own voice, the nobles found it charming that he was like the heroes of lore, silent. Proxi was back home, unable to travel through the portals. He missed her greatly. He did find it a bit easier to find his own voice among his fellow heroes though. It seemed they all struggled with speech in various ways.
Hyrule and Wind, like himself, got a bad stutter when upset. Wild, and to a smaller degree, Time and Legend, all had voices scraped a bit raw and painful. Cold days were especially bad for the three of them, and they'd taken to drinking tea and honey most mornings. Sky, Four, and Twilight were all just quieter by nature for the most part, though they all admitted to going long periods of time without saying a word due to stress. It was an odd quirk that seemingly came with the Hero's spirit. Warriors was glad to be in their company.
He hadn't spoken to any of his troops for the entirety of the war, only after did he find his voice in public places. Before there were exactly five people who he could unglue his mouth around; Zelda, Impa, Proxi, Tune, and Mask.
Warriors eyed his pot of kohl and took a deep breath. He'd gotten very good over the years at the tedious process of applying eyeliner. It didn't mean it was his favorite thing in the world though. He dipped in his brush and got to work outlining his eyes just enough to bring out the deep blue color. His gaze had to command respect and awe, no matter the situation. He had to look stronger than he was, a harsh glare had done wonders for the respect he had in his line of work. The first few years of war had been especially hard since nearly no one listened to him, they had only seen him as a pretty face given a rank he didn't deserve because he happened to not be burned by a fancy sword.
They had been right of course, he'd had to prove himself over and over again. He was still proving himself, he doubted he could ever stop.
At least the people who called him crude names and insults had shut up for the most part. He could go his whole life without being called Cia's anything ever again. He wouldn't, but that was beside the point.
With his eyes lined he moved on to the balm for his lips. It was mostly practical, moisturizing and kept his lips from cracking and bleeding. But it did add a slight shine that only added to his image. Most days he wished he could throw the damn thing into the bushes and forget why he had to do any of this.
Today was one of those days.
He finished the application and stored all his supplies back into his bag, Legend would be up soon and he didn't want to be caught taking his shield again. They were on much better terms nowadays, but the vet loved petty revenge and Warriors did not want to be on the receiving side of it… again. Seventh times the charm…
His footsteps were as quiet as he could manage (he was not trained for stealth alright) but it seemed that Legend was exhausted enough to not notice him sliding the shield back into place by his pillow. Legend hadn't been sleeping well the last few nights, they had only just gotten out of Wind's Hyrule after all. He never seemed to sleep well when he could smell the salt in the air. He had never explained it, but Warriors payed enough attention to make note of the trend. Paranoia was surprisingly helpful when dealing with teammates. It also made everything ten times harder, but he wasn't sure he would ever be able to stop.
With evidence of his thievery gone and finally ready to properly start the day he pulled a bag of coffee grounds from his belt bag and approached the fire.
"Can I borrow one of your pots, Champ?"
Wild smiled up at him, one tooth missing, and passed over the designated drink pot.
As the smell of coffee filled his nose Warriors took a moment to just breathe it all in. They weren't fighting for their lives, the weather was beautiful, there was supposedly a town half a days walk away, his little brother was leaning against him with a half closed eye, and whatever Wild was making looked delicious.
He could at least try to make it a good day.
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"Ok, that's it." Legend's eyes snapped open the moment that Warriors stooped down to reach for his shield. His hand shot out from where it had been tucked up against his chest and grabbed his wrist. "You're not doing this right now, we're literally trapped in a cave system."
Warriors froze, the hand on him was cold, sending a shock up his spine. He didn't move though, his mind was spinning in circles trying to decipher Legend's words.
It was true, they were stuck in a cave system, they had been separated by the portal just last night. It was highly unlikely that they would run into anyone he needed to be presentable for. But still, like usual, he had reached for Legend's shield, intent on making himself something worth saving.
"I don't know what you-"
Legend sat up in his bedroll, his hair hanging lank to his shoulders. With his furrowed brows and sharp nose Warriors was distantly reminded of a much younger kid who liked to call him on his shit.
"Oh you don't know what I mean?" The teen's voice was especially caustic, irritation visible in the line of his bony shoulders. "Do you really think I don't notice you taking my shit every morning so you can go mope in the corner and hate yourself?"
Oh no, Legend noticed. Of course the veteran noticed, of course he was bringing it up now that they were alone. He was far too perceptive for comfort, Warriors was an idiot for not taking that into account. Was this payback for figuring out his real age? For walking them both out of the tavern the moment Legend had loosened enough up to reveal that he shouldn't be in there. He hadn't told anyone else about it, he'd been waiting for the right time to address it properly. But maybe the knowledge alone was enough to draw his ire.
"I don't hate myself," Warriors lied through his teeth. "And I don't mope."
"Then what are you doing every morning while you stare obsessively at yourself and sigh forlornly every time you put on eyeliner?" Legend's voice had a nearly sing-song quality, he was walking the line between uncomfortable sincerity and making fun of him. It was honestly an impressive skill, Warriors would have a lot more appreciation for it if it wasn't currently being weaponized against him.
Warriors tossed his scarf over his shoulder with a dignified huff, just haughty enough to be high class. Hopefully Legend would fall for his perfectly crafted persona, he had spent actual years perfecting it, slipping into the mask so easily that it had overtaken him. He understood how Time got the markings on his face, it was much easier to face life if you weren't yourself.
"Can't I care about my appearance without being accused of hating myself? Also eyeliner is a pain to put on I'll have you know."
Legend as usual, looked unamused. His legs were crossed and he was picking absently at a bite mark on his calf that stuck out just a bit from his boots, it looked uncomfortably canine. Also, yes, he did sleep in his boots, because he was a monster.
"Then why do you bother with it?"
The answer to that question was incredibly simple: Because it was expected of him. But he had a feeling that the vet would take issue with that reasoning, even if it was perfectly sound. He had to come up with something else that was convincing, any hint of hesitation would have Legend raising an eyebrow and telling him to try again like some sort of disappointing parent. He was a weird kid.
Legend also had a tendency to not let things go, he was like a young snake, unwilling to take his teeth out of things that scared him.
It seemed he had failed to come up with an adequate excuse before Legend's limited patience wore out.
"You're a good liar Wars, but your reaction time could use some work."
Warriors scoffed, he had excellent reaction time thank you very much… with weapons at least.
Legend stood and began to pack up his things, including strapping his reflective shield to his back.
"If you don't talk to someone about this shit then you'll have to talk to me about it, and I don't think either of us want to see me trying to be empathetic."
Warriors shuddered, "Oh good goddesses, no."
"Great, talk to someone about this weird obsession then. That way my highly rare artifact doesn't have to be reduced to your personal vanity anymore."
With that Legend dropped the matter, not commenting as he pulled out his small compact and applied concealer as they walked through the fire-rod illuminated darkness.
Maybe Legend had a point, just a small one. He was with brothers after all, he didn't need to be an idol around them. They didn't ever switch worlds twice in one day, perhaps the first day after a portal he could just cover the scars on his face.
And maybe he should talk to someone, if only to get Legend off his back. He would definitely not be having that conversation with a seventeen year old. One kid that same age had been doomed to know the things he did now, he wouldn't let it happen to another if he could help it.
When his mostly bare face finally met the sun he couldn't help but smile, it had been a while since he got to properly greet the sky like this.