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In the old tales, the ones that had their heroes, the focus was always on the great deeds that they did or the awful blunders that they committed. Action, and to a lesser extent behavior, was what drove the story forward. It was as it should be, Alessia used to think, even if the tellers always stopped to squeeze some moral messages out of them.

Sailing into warzones, escaping from pirates or, Hades, even being the pirates, where all journeys into themselves and what dictated the story’s journey.

But rarely, very rarely, were the accommodations of said heroes the subject of any storyteller.

Given what grand personages they were, Alessia had imagined that men and women capable of leading hundreds if not thousands, would-be kings and monster slayers, would all be living every moment of their lives as they would in a palace. To the younger aristocia that was Alessia, it just made “sense” to her that there would be servants in those ships of theirs, even then. That they would have their own rooms with their own things on their own time.

That, somehow, they would be able to fit a big bed, an outside garden, and maybe even a small house in a rowing vessel.

A bireme, as it turned out, could not offer any of those things to anyone as it turned out. Not, not even for her Captain.

When the ship wasn’t full of slaves, the “hold” that its wooden canopy formed could comfortably provide each man and woman a little corner of their floating land all to themselves. With slaves, sleeping on the “hold” was starkly not the most desirable of things, even if every single slave was chained to their bench. For the night, or particularly sunny days, a stern castle made of cloth could be set on its stern. Providing the most privacy that could be had, this was where the Captain could rest, as could any of the trusted members of her command.

Some people, on calm, rainless nights, could simply sleep on top of the canopy with nothing but their sheets and their cots to protect them against the wind and the cold.

That is what Alessia did her first night as the Captain of the Marin.

Her mother and Chloe both rhythmically moved their chests up and down from underneath the stern castle. More could have slept there, side to side, so Alessia could have been resting among them.

But the sky had no clouds that night.

And the stars beckoned to her.

The purple glow from the Torch Ships single Torch cast the whites of the sails and the browns of the ship into queer contrasts. But against the deep blacks and blues where the shimmering stars gave their subtle glow? It made the whole world feel as though it wasn’t real.

As though the responsibility Alessia had taken, and the mistakes she had to make up for hadn’t been made. In here, she was alone at last, one woman sailing into the unknown while only the future awaited her.

Sleep had been slow to come.

But sleep was only separated from death by degrees, and so it always came.

The stars stopped glowing white.

And started glowing violet.

The Torch started glowing white.

And Alessia’s sky lit.

In her dream, there was no ship. No, instead, Alessia was the ship.

In her dreams, the world wasn’t land, heaven and earth. No, it was just light. It was just…

Purple.

An eye, or would that be many eyes, stared at her from what should have been the sky. Looking down on her, like Triol had done. Or was that the reverse? Triol had to look up at her from his deeps while this…this thing wasn’t even craning its neck.

If it even had a neck.

Alessia could not make out any of what it was save for that eye. That beautiful, bewitching eye.

It had no whites in its sclera. Rather, it was blacks. But a black so dark that it swallowed the night. Its pupil, however, glowed an eerie purple light that seemed to cast everything else into other colors. Purple couldn’t exist in this being’s presence without coming from that eye.

Its eyelashes were long and supple, each one a long coil of roped ether. Shadows cast around this eye, and untrue winds moved the eyelashes in this void. But they never got in the way of the eye or the pupil. It couldn’t.

Whatsoever the eye saw-

“Would-have-been, has-been,” the eye spoke, “Were.”

“Usually do I deal with a single one of those, but not all three at once.”

-could not help but stare back.

“What-” Alessia asked, “Are you?”

“You know what I am,” the eye attested, “You know Alessia, daughter of Frija.”

“Or you should, Stowaway Captain.”

“...The Torch,” Alessia realized.

“Yes,” the eye slanted in a way that implied a smile.

“My mother’s god,” Alessia said, “The nameless god.”

“The Outsider god.”

“Correct in two guesses,” the eye did not seem displeased by the guess, “But incorrect in one. I do possess a name, but there is something more that you call me, isn’t there? By all means, I love descriptive labels, and you have one for me.”

“The Purple god,” Alessia breathed.

“Hoh, yes, yes!” the eye shuttered in a way that made Alessia’s skin crawl, “What a wonderfully meaningless, if accurate, thing that is but a fetching thing all the more for it.”

“What…is your actual name?” Alessia couldn’t help but ask. She should be freaking out. One moment she was sleeping, the next she was here. There was no tale to this meeting, no component of any of this a part of a sacrifice. Gods were said to be able to endow messages during sleep, but they weren’t supposed to be meetings like these.

If they were, summonings would be pointless!

But wrestling with the theological implications of this-calling?- aside, Alessia’s feelings were muted, and so she could not fully feel the panic that she knew she should at least partly experience.

In here, in this void, it was almost as if-

“-that is a bit rude, you know,” the eye casually said, ‘Asking me one question with your mouth while pondering another in your heart.”

“How did you…” Alessia was almost shocked enough to be surprised.

“Oh, but I forgive you,” the purple god did not reply, “I always do.”

“Unlike your land gods, my brow does not strain at the folly of your kind.”

“T-thank you?” Alessia could only say.

“I accept your thanks,” the eye replied, “and burden you with a question in turn: do you know why I light the Torch of your ship?”

“Because…my mom is one of your faithful?” Alessia replied.

“Please, Alessia, I already said, didn’t I?” the god chided her, “I am not one of your divines. I don’t need you to pretend that my actions are always benign.”

Alessia stared at the eye.

“Because you want to extend your influence?” There, Alessia said what the priesthood of Parsimoni speculated. Piecing together the mysteries of the divine was a worthy calling, worthy of a Priest, but it was not without its pitfalls. The more a Priest knew about their god, the better they could call upon them and their miracles; that had always been true.

But some questions were inherently insulting, and some venues of information inherently dangerous.

The motivations the gods had to do what they did were a question they could all pose, but questions to those answers, once given, were not. Moral authorities that they were, the priesthood danced the same knife that their gods must balance to do well by their faithful, but the appearance of judgement was sometimes impossible to avoid.

Honor and face.

Truth and insult.

The gods being who they were did not make them less a god.

But that did not keep their servants from noticing many things. Things that they, point in fact, HAD to notice to be better servants.

Like how hard it was to light the Torch of other gods.

Or how easy it was to light the torch of ANY god in a Torch ship.

Yet no sea god had ever, to the knowledge of anyone in Parsimoni, paid patronage to a Torch ship.

Motivations being what they were, ambition being what it was, the simplest, most straightforward answer was-

“Ah, do you see?” If the eye had teeth, it would be showing them right now, “That was not hard, was it?”

“Allow me to reward your answer with an answer of my own. A Truth for truth, in turn.”

“You are not wrong, broadly,” the purple eye replied, “But you are wrong, specifically.”

“You made two major assumptions, both of which are false,” the god said, “But, ah, that’s three truths instead of one, isn’t it? How generous of me, don’t you think?”

“I-yes, of course, lord…Purple,” Alessia said and cringed at how awfully informal that sounded.

“Yes, indeed it is,” the god agreed, “But three doesn’t match the size of my generosity, so I will allow you to ask a fourth. But that one will be a choice between two questions, both of which you must have noticed.”

“That is, if I am not just talking to the wind,” the purple god said.

Alessia, even in this dream, frowned.

‘What two wrong assumptions did she make?’ was what immediately came to mind. But no, that was one question engulfing the two questions she was certain this god wanted her to ask. Nothing else made much sense, given how little she knew of it until just now.

The most obvious thing she had assumed was what it wanted, so she was sure that was one of her choices. But what was the other one? There were so many things that she could have assumed that did not apply to this foreign god…

But then, Alessia didn’t even know what this god was a god of.

‘What kind of god are you?’ almost slipped from her lips, her desire to know almost getting the better of her. But this wasn’t her working her elders for every bit of knowledge that they had.

This was her talking to a god.

And the most useful thing she could ask was, “What is it that you want, then? Why did you light the ship’s Torch?”

“Ah,” the god sounded pleased, “Yes, a good question. A right question. A practical question.”

“Like mother,” it stared at her, “Like daughter.”

“W-what-” whether god or man, the topic of her mother wasn’t one Alessia could just let pass, “Does that have to do with this?”

“Why do you think that I lit the Torch of your mother’s ship?” the purple god replied with a question, “What could she have possibly sacrificed for me to do so?”

That was unfair. That was completely unfair. Wasn’t that essentially asking HER what it was a god of?

…but this was a question about her mother and not necessarily this god.

Alessia, as it turned out, didn’t know her mother as well as she thought, so what could she possibly have sacrificed to this god as a Torch Capta-

Alessia’s eyes widen.

“No,” she whispered in the dream, this time the feeling of being sick managing to dig through all the mire of sleep.

“Yes,” the purple god confirmed, “I knew you, of all people, would have guessed.”

“All the adultery?” it said, “A sacrifice to me.”

“All the pregnancies?” it confirmed, “It fulfilled me.”

“The abortions, the abandonments, the constant debauchery?” it informed Alessia, “That was me, me, and me.”

“But lest you believe that your mother is a victim of mine, that I am nothing but her slaver,” it said as Alessia was struck again and again with each admission, “Know that it was your mother that picked me over the gods lighting her Ship. Oh, indeed, I did not come to her when she had no other choice.”

“I merely gave her a convenient excuse to act on what was already in her heart.”

As before, Alessia had no answer to this. It was all…too much. Too much that needed a simple talk with her mother. The woman Frija presumed herself to be while in Parsimoni could not be completely false, no matter what she or anyone else thought. Her love, at least, wasn’t fake, and Alessia had already staked her life on that.

“And now,” the purple god interrupted her thoughts once again, “it's your turn.”

Alessia fully turned her attention to it once again.

“Your mother never suffered from being lost,” the eye began, “Nor being too slow while the prow of her ship burned violet. But I didn’t stop there!”

“Ambushes that should have caught her, intentions that should have engulfed her, disasters that should have happened to her,” the god listed, “None of them met her unaware, or unprepared, while I was watching her. Not at sea.”

“And not on land.”

Alessia gave the eye an incredulous look.

“She already knew that her gods hated her,” the purple god shrugged, “After so many years, she simply got careless.”

“But I can do all of that for you, too,” the god went on, “The promise that you made to your mother’s crew? It can be true. It can be more than that, even, given your actual knowledge of divine things.”

“You want me to be a whore?” Alessia managed to get out.

“I want to be entertained, Captain,” the eye laughed, “Consider it, young thing. You already took up the burden of Captain from her, why not the burden of sacrifice as well?”

“Frija can then be the innocent woman you always knew she really was.”

It was tempting.

It was really, really tempting to just accept things as this god set them. But this god had all but just confirmed it to her, hadn’t it?

“No, she isn’t,” Alessia tiredly said.

“A counter proposal, Lord Purple, if I may?” she put everything on the line on the hopes that it would humor her. What it hadn’t said, that Alessia was in a very bad way, was something she kept in mind.

The ship was currently sailing under the auspices of this god’s power but, if she declined, would that still be true tomorrow? There were supposed to be two more days of travel to Anila, if they could count on the purple god to shorten things.

But if they couldn’t? Would it be weeks? Maybe even a month if the winds really did fight them? Without fulfilling her end of the bargain, the position of ‘Captain’, and its protection, would no longer be hers.

Given how much she had talked, and how she had reassured her mother’s crew, well…what would happen to her and her mother if she couldn’t do what she said?

After weeks of struggling in the sea with inappropriate supplies, would they even be safe?

Perhaps they would, but it was still not an enviable spot to be in. It was not a question of whether it was a bad choice, but how bad a choice.

But instead of pointing this out, the purple god merely quirked its lone eye, “Oh?”

“You just want to be entertained, is that right?” Alessia asked.

The purple god nodded but still responded, “Just so, but I will take my privilege to preface that I find the sort of things your mother did to be what entertains me.”

“Understood, but, if at all possible, I’d like to do things my own way,” Alessia simply offered, “Things that only I can.”

The divine entity hummed.

“What do you have in mind?” the god asked.

“I’d like to keep that a secret, Lord Purple,” Alessia replied, hoping the god would bite, “After all, I think you would not enjoy it as much if you weren’t surprised by it.”

Defrauding a god was NOT the sort of thing any sane person would do. Not that most people could, given how rare being able to communicate with gods was. But if need be, IF need be, two days wasn’t too long, and the Marin was a sanctified ship.

So long as they could get to Anila on time, the temples of that land could be visited and other Torches lit. It was one of the stupidest things Alessia could do, but it was preferable to living like her mother had.

But the purple eye seemed to have some inkling of the thoughts going through her head, “Hmm, I do not loathe surprises, but I do hate to be disappointed.”

“You have one day, Stowaway Captain,” the purple god informed her, “One day to prove that you are capable of bringing me satisfaction.”

“But should you fail-” the god thing said, the violet light from its pupil turning baleful, “You will not have to worry about the future accommodations of you or your mother.”

“Your whole ship will drown.”

The moment the words left the purple deity, Alessia knew, knew in the deepest parts of her bones, that it was a fact.

“You will not be disappointed,” Alessia swallowed.

“I believe in you,” the purple eye reassured her.

Then the whole void that they were in started to tremble.

“Ah, the sun crests,” the purple god looked around them.

It then returned its gaze to her, ‘Time to awake.”

Alessia’s eyes snapped open.

Her mother was already up, going about tasks amid a crew that refused to make eye contact with her. The awkwardness of being around people who had, essentially, overthrown her for her daughter was palpable, but her mother still endeavored to make herself useful.

Chloe, too, was plying the sailing skills that she had picked up over a lifetime by helping set the sails of the ship as a morning wind started blowing them from the west.

A few of the slaves had been allowed to come up, under the careful gaze of Ganise, and were being allowed to bring the earthen pots all the other slaves used to shit or piss to throw them over the ship. Dina and Chares already had dried bread clay pots out, and were breaking into the watered wine.

Sabina was putting away the Stern Castle, all the cots and beds of the crew underfoot as she stowed them away in compartments.

The only one allowed to sleep this late, it seemed, was the Captain of the ship, who didn’t need to do any of the labour.

But that wasn’t the same thing as having nothing to do.

“Mother!” Alessia yelled, and people jumped at the sound, surprised that she had awakened, “That is to say, Frija?”

“Um, yes, love?” her mother walked through the eyes that were now following her again. It was hard to imagine how, in all the heavens, they were going to make this trip given what had happened.

“I need you here,” Alessia told her.

And then, more loudly, she yelled at the rest of the crew, “Moreover, I need the Marin at attention.”

“Everyone who is not doing something that can’t wait, stand before me!”

To their credit, not a single member of the crew tried to come up with a reason to make her wait, though Ganise could have. Instead of bringing them below deck, the black woman made her slave charges kneel in front of Alessia while she joined her crewmates.

“You hold the Marin’s attention, Captain,” the first mate of the ship informed her, Sabina’s eyes boring into Alessia.

They might need Alessia, but she acknowledged that she had done the farthest thing from proving herself to them.

That would have to change, of course, but first came making good on her responsibility as Captain.

“Thank you,” Alessia honestly replied and extended a hand to her mother. The blonde milf hesitated for a second but still took it, “I only have one thing to say then.”

So the young woman took a deep breath.

And then pulled her mother into her.

The huge breasts that her mother had squeezed into hers. The enormous hips that she owned grounded into Alessia’s. Frija’s thighs pressed against her crotch even as Alessia slipped an arm behind her waist.

And filled with as much of her mother’s ass as she could.

Frija gasped into Alessia’s mouth, the young woman continuing off what she had started at the pier. Hot thick lips pressed against hot thick lips, the breath and saliva of her mother’s mouth inadvertently opening for her.

Allowing Alessia to slip her tongue inside.

She had wanted this. Oh, she wanted to do this for so very long, and so very desperately. Frija, her mother, had always been the perfect woman to her, and now?

Now she was in her grasp.

Alessia could here the gasp of the people looking at them as Alessia squeezed her mother so hard that the flesh of her ass slipped through the gaps of Alessia’s fingers, and her breasts almost slipped out of her wraps.

Blonde hair mixed with blonde hair, daughter connecting to her mother by the mouth. The crew could hear their moans, Frija’s unintentional whimpers showing how much she was affected by the stimuli, and Alessia’s deliberate own letting everyone know how much their young captain was enjoying it.

Then she scooped her mother’s tongue into her mouth and bit down on it with her lips.

“Hmmmm!” Frija’s knees shook and she almost fell down to her knees, but Alessia didn’t let her.

The hand squeezing her ass kept her glued to her, and the hand holding her hand kept her open.

Eventually, the kiss subsided and Alessia, finally, stepped back.

Alessia saw the crew of her ship stare at the saliva connecting the mouth of daughter and mother. They watched the lines stretch until they broke.

They saw them hang from their lips.

“Is that clear to everyone?” Alessia breathlessly said as if she had just given a long oration, “This is how it’s going to be.”

The Torch in the prow of her ship seemed to increase by two sizes, the burning ethereal flame briefly threatening to engulf the ship as it bathed everyone in a sharp purple light.

“Mother is going to be my woman.”