"Yes, there are also some old landscape photos stored in the album. I knew Princess Zelda had made frequent use of the Camera feature, but this..."
Purah’s wink had placed a shiver in Link’s spine, one he couldn’t shake for hours. Curiosity ate at his thoughts and replaced the missing pieces with an indefinable anxiety. It wasn’t dread—he knew dread, and he reminded himself every time he glanced toward the unrecognizable state of Hyrule Castle—but it wasn’t excitement or fear, nothing with so stable a connotation. When night fell and a thankfully white moon rose over the mountains, he settled in and withdrew his slate, as emotionally prepared as he thought he could be for the messages Zelda had left him a hundred years ago. And the first picture seemed perfectly normal, a photo of the sacred grounds under scorching daylight with the silhouette of the castle towering in the background…and a half naked woman sitting in the center of the dais.
Link rubbed his eyes and squinted. Was it Zelda? It had to be. He’d recognize her golden hair anywhere, and her pure green eyes filled with life, and the robes of the Hylian royal family draped around her torso. But the hair was in disarray, and the eyes peered at him with distress atop a deep blush, and the dress bunched at her waist to show the bare legs underneath. The woman leaned back on one arm, and the other stretched toward him, holding the camera to capture her in her full majesty. At the bottom of the frame she spread her legs, and underneath a small patch of brightest yellow he saw a shimmering artifact of the camera’s lens. Unless she truly did have a blob of white between her thighs, right where—
He almost bobbled the slate. Th-th-this was very definitely not a landscape picture! Yes, landscape was in it, but Zelda was front and center, smirking at the camera with something between embarrassment and affected sultriness. The composition left little room for misinterpretation: this was a woman who had just been with a man, at least somewhat enjoyed the process, and wanted to document the moment for posterity. The man in question was not in frame, but Link had his suspicions. It had to be him, didn’t it? He had laid with Zelda, broken his oath to protect her, defiled the flower of Hyrule…and she had approved enough to create a souvenir.
His shaking fingers moved the slate to the next picture. A mountain appeared, split almost down the middle, across a lake behind a low hillock flanked by birches. And before them all stood the Zelda he knew in her tunic as bright as the sky underneath a braid whose construction he never fully understood. Even miles apart and a hundred years away he could tell when her smile was fake, when her mouth twisted but her eyes stayed the same. Though, he thought, part of the cause might have been the thick white splotches covering her face, sealing one eye closed in a wince she failed to hide from the camera. One hand held the slate again, and the other prodded at her chin, a cutesy pose belying the overtly lewd paint dripping from her cheekbones.
And the next, an array of rock structures, tilted and weathered and covered with moss under the watchful gaze of Vah Medoh. The subject of this picture glared at him, a frustration he felt in his gut. He could only imagine her reaction in the moment, when an unnamed figure sprayed her pristine tunic with copious amounts of fluid. She pointed to an especially large glob on her chest, right where a nipple might lay underneath, evidence of an event she would not be able to hide without a thorough wash.
In the next picture, an escalation. Instead of the aftermath of some sexual event, this captured the event just before it occurred. Illuminated by the setting sun, just in front of an oasis in a rocky area, a bottomless Zelda straddled the hips of a man whose face rested just outside the photo. No leggings prevented his erect cock from resting against her bare pussy, nor did she attempt to hide the point of contact. She bit her lip with clear anticipation and one fingertip rested against his shaft, ready to push it inside her at a moment’s notice.
Photo after photo told the story of a relationship built across the four corners of the kingdom. Zelda on her knees in front of a canyon, pushing her breasts together with her hand and upper arm so the camera could see the penis trapped between them. Zelda on her hands and knees in a field with her leggings halfway down her thighs, reaching far backward to capture the seed oozing from her crotch just below a tight, pink asshole. Zelda sitting in a man’s lap—the same man as before, he thought—facing away from him, totally naked and drenched with rain as she impaled herself on his dick. The man did not appear in all photos, like the picture of Zelda crouched against a low stone wall, masturbating furiously and barely restraining a moan; or in a thin white dress, soaked through with the water of a sacred spring but standing upright to preserve the cum on her face; or completely naked in a seductive pose atop a statue of a horse; or hiding with her hand over her mouth while four vaguely familiar shapes lingered in the far background, seemingly unaware of her game. But they all showed an image of the princess fully removed from the staid, composed woman he thought he knew, and every one had him rock-hard on the edge of a memory.
The last picture was different. There was little sexuality in it, only a princess covered in mud with her eyes red and bloodshot, kneeling alone in some remote glade. She blew a kiss toward the camera. He felt no desire from her, no energy, no anticipation for a tryst about to occur or satisfaction with one recently completed. He just saw Zelda, sad and alone.
Link put the slate away. He knew there was more behind these pictures, information sealed somewhere in his brain. If he visited the locations where they were taken, maybe he could learn more. He only had to recognize them…and to be sure, he dropped his pants and turned on the slate for a second look.