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A child of the sea could take many, many forms. Pallas, daughter of Triton, had been known to assume the form of a dolphin or an albatross; she'd undulated with the waves, with hair like seafoam and a body as malleable as the currents. For today, however, the goddess chose to manifest in the form she favored: that of an athletic young woman who betrayed her oceanic heritage. Her muscled skin was an aquatic blue, rippled with soft scales. Her hair was a pleasant, jadelike green, bits of seaweed woven through it; a small spiral shell, colored pink-orange like coral, pinned some of it back as a barrette. Fins jutted from her forearms and behind her ears; her webbed feet did not even boast any sandals. Her teeth were charmingly pointed, a playful echo of the ocean's most fearsome predators.

Said teeth were stretched wide in a smile as she finally arrived in a place she had been absent from for far too long: Mount Olympus itself.

Ganymede, Zeus's 'cup-bearer' (though in truth everyone knew what else the two of them got up to), met her at the gates with a charming smile. The immortal youth was sunny and pleasant, and Pallas could immediately see why Zeus had taken a liking to him. She had to pay tribute to the king of the gods, of course, and she allowed Ganymede to lead her to the Olympians's hall. There, Lord Zeus towered over her, stern and stately, his wife Hera sitting humorlessly beside him. Pallas murmured her appreciation towards the man, offering a flawless pearl twice again the size of a man's head as a gift, which Zeus accepted graciously. He then perfunctorily bid her to enjoy her time in the gods' domain.

"I shall, Lord Zeus," she promised.

"Father," came a respectful voice from the chamber's edge. There, Athena herself--goddess of war and wisdom--stood resplendent. She was tall, clad in helm of blemishless brass over long flowing robes, with short curly hair and an aquiline nose that framed piercing, intelligent eyes. "With your leave, I might show our visitor around."

Zeus chuckled and sipped a goblet of wine. He had children upon children, but it was well known who his favorite was. "I can think of no better guide than you, daughter." Athena bowed her head respectfully and Pallas curtseyed. As Pallas stepped over to meet her friend, Zeus's booming voice rang out to her--not to her ears, but to her mind.

You have a good heart, and I much respect your father, Zeus told the young goddess. Yet youthful follies can shatter hearts even by accident. I give leave for you and my daughter to enjoy yourselves--and here the words impressed themselves with a reflection which told Pallas that Zeus knew exactly what sort of entertainment the two women would get up to--but do not toy with her. A father's wrath is tempestuous indeed.

Personally, Pallas thought it a bit presumptuous for Lord Zeus to lecture anyone about folly or breaking hearts. Of course, to say so would be to wish one's own destruction. I assure you, Lord, this is no flight of fancy¸ she thought back to him. I will treat her with honor and respect.

Zeus had no words for her, but she saw the towering god's bearded face twitch in a smile. He nodded almost imperceptibly and Pallas headed outside with his blessing.

Athena waited for her in the court of the gods. "Father giving you the runaround?" she said wryly. Pallas nodded. "Well, it's nice to know he cares." The goddess of wisdom sighed. "That said, shall I show you around?"

"Please do," Pallas purred in response. With just the hint of a girlish blush coloring Athena's face, she took the sea goddess's hand in hers--and then it was time for the tour.

Olympus was a land of fantasy. Lord Zeus and Lady Hera had dominion over the sky, and so the weather was always balmy and pleasant. The buildings were sculpted of a marble so fine and pure that it was rumored that it was cloud made solid; Pallas wasn't entirely unconvinced those rumors were just hearsay. Fruit trees bearing only the ripest, juiciest samples of their bounty were everywhere, arranged in such lazy grace that no mortal gardener could have managed to duplicate it, and a tangle of grapevines seemed to be coyly waltzing its way up the wall of every third building. The walkways bristled with statues and gently spraying fountains. Heroes and nymphs and demigods bustled this way and that, doing the gods's bidding; more than a few nodded to Pallas in greeting.

Yet she wasn't entirely sure what she was to be looking at. For every wonder that was shown off to her--Hephaestus's workshop, Dionysus's wine-hall, the ever-burning hearth where Hestia tended her fire--Pallas inevitably found her eyes drawn to her guide. Athena had spent a season in Triton's palace some seasons ago, and the two goddesses had quickly become fast friends--and much, much more than that.

"So?" Athena asked. "Is Olympus to your liking?" She was quite proud of her home, though she was never one to boast or brag--at least, not to those who didn't deserve it.

"Oh, I should think so," Pallas replied playfully.

Athena seemed pleased at that response. "What is your favorite part so far?" she asked.

In response, Pallas just squeezed her hand playfully. Athena gasped, her cheeks coloring slightly, and Pallas pulled her in close. The goddess of wisdom didn't resist...

Their lips touched for the first time in what seemed like eons, and Pallas almost melted. Oh, how she'd missed the feeling of those lips against hers. So soft, so lovely... She strained up to kiss her girlfriend harder, having to stand on her toes since Athena was well over a head taller than her.

Athena kissed back, one hand interlocking fingers with Pallas's, the other drifting to lazily string a lock of hair between her fingers. She reached down and gently brushed her hand against Pallas's fin.

"I missed this," Pallas murmured when their kiss broke. "I missed you."

"I know. I did too," Athena responded. "It took everything not to rush back to you..."

Pallas's heart panged at how long the absence had stretched, but she understood. Being an Olympian came with a slew of duties that far eclipsed those of a 'lesser' goddess. (Athena, ever the gentlewoman, had never so much as intimated that Pallas was her inferior, and seemed incensed when the other goddess had vaguely implied it.) Those duties had kept her away--and had Athena broken them, she would not be the woman that Pallas loved so much.

But it mattered not. They were together now, and that was all Pallas cared about.

"I kept praying that your duties would take you to the sea," Pallas told her, punctuating every other word with a kiss. She laid little pecks of love at the corner of Athena's mouth and on each of her cheeks. "Then I would take a shape and rush off to you."

Athena chuckled. "To steal a moment?" she replied. "My love, even my brother Hermes isn't fast enough to steal me away from my duties before father notices. If you came, I would simply take the form of an owl and wing away."

"As if I could not catch you," Pallas replied huffily.

"As if you could!" Athena said with a laugh.

Competitive fire suddenly filled Pallas. "It seems we have a challenge, then!"

Athena smirked. She had reason to--the two of them had developed quite the competitive streak during her stay in the undersea palace. They'd clashed in the javelin, in the discus, in wordplay and games of chance and strategy. Athena hadn't won them all, but she sat comfortably over half.

"It seems we do," she said. "I will take owl form, you whatever water-shape you choose. We'll race and the victor... hmmm, what shall she get?"

"Something of her choice from the loser," Pallas suggested.

Athena's eyes twinkled. "Aye, that sounds about right."

---

Word soon spread across Olympus that Zeus's daughter and the princess of the sea were going to have a race. Lord Zeus himself established himself as judge, drawing up boundaries. The race was to take place in the Aegean Sea--Athena winging overhead, Pallas swimming underneath.

As divine spectators and their hangers-on gathered, Pallas just gazed at her girlfriend. By the gods themselves, but she was beautiful--the epitome of poised, confident womanhood, strong and commanding, yet cheerful and playful around those she loved. She was a favorite of gods and mortals, and it wasn't hard for Pallas to see why. For the sea goddess to have snared her love... she felt the luckiest being in any plane.

"Ready?" Athena teased. Her form was enveloped in pearlescent light and when it faded, the young woman had been replaced by an owl with snow-white feathers bedecked with brown spots. Her round eyes glimmered with insight and intelligence. The bird flapped, hovering comfortably over the surface of the water.

"Always," Pallas replied. She melted down into the sea, letting her form become one with the water. She took on a lithe, thin shape, with a long, knifelike body and a jutting jaw of razor teeth--a barracuda. She flicked her powerful tail and snapped her jaws. The ocean was her domain, and she was going to prove it.

The other gods were nearly beside themselves with excitement. Ares was betting against his hated sister; Hephaestus was wringing a promise from Zeus not to interfere if things looked bad for Athena. Sly Hermes was milling about collecting bets.

Aeolus, who had been appointed referee by Zeus, manifested before them, his form ephemeral like the wind he commanded. "It's a simple contest," he said. "Changing shapes, interfering with the other, or deviating from the chosen path is an automatic loss condition. The destination is a line of water whipped by my wind, some miles from here. Are you ready?"

The two animals both signaled their readiness. The owl flexed her talons; the barracuda's tail tensed.

"Then... BEGIN!"

And with that, they were off.

Pallas used her tail to shoot like an arrow through the water, a blur that surged beneath the waves. Her assumed body was long and well-suited for parting water. It was a good choice.

But she couldn't afford to assume this would be a guaranteed win. The pale shape of the owl dipped overhead, her talons playfully skimming the surface of the sea. Then, with a sweep of her quiet wings, the bird of prey was off. Pallas chased her, matching every beat of her girlfriend's wings with a powerful swipe of her tail. They had both chosen powerful forms and knew how to use them; they were staying neck in neck, a gain by either of them only momentary.

Pallas soon realized this would not be a contest of strength. They were too evenly matched. What would seize the day wasn't the strength of their forms, but rather how each goddess elected to use her form to her utmost advantage. Athena would draw strength from thermals of hot air; given that it was summer over the Mediterranean, those weren't in short supply. Pallas would be better served to find oceanic currents to speed her swimming along.

To win a race against Athena was one thing. But if said race was also a battle of wits? Well... Pallas had always enjoyed a challenge.

Overhead, the pale dot shrank as Athena rode a thermal high over the water. Then, from her vantage point, she swooped downwards, gravity lending her speed. Her swoops were the main way she stood to gain on Pallas, and the sea goddess cursed. To hook her barracuda's teeth around the owl's leg would guarantee victory... but that wasn't this game. Combat would have to come at a later date.

(And besides. She wasn't so sure she wanted to pick a fight, friendly or not, with the goddess of war.)

Athena found another thermal and rose, and Pallas muttered a second curse. To catch up without riding a current would blow all her stamina, guaranteeing a loss in the long run. She sent out her will into the ocean around her, surveying the water without flagging in her speed. She found it--a surging current she could ride. Skirting sideways, she entered the lane of fast-running water and let it blast her forward.

Before long she was catching on Athena--then tied with her--and then, when the owl faltered as one thermal proved weak, she even moved ahead. The finish line was coming up; Pallas might actually pull this off.

The barracuda's current ended, but another one was nearby. She pushed into it only to find herself rocketing at an angle--the current didn't go straight! What was worse was that the current would take her out-of-bounds, forfeiting the match!

Pallas managed to force herself out of the current before she inadvertently surrendered. As she tumbled in the comparatively-still water, Athena found a thermal and rode it high--then she swooped low and fast, making for the finish line.

Well, Pallas had saved her stamina for a reason! Who needed a current! Throwing all her energy into one last burst of speed, she made for Aeolus's marker. Athena was gaining fast, but Pallas had the head start and was giving it everything. Athena was close, but if she could just make it to the finish line...!

Suddenly, with a screech, Athena flashed her talons and dipped low as it to pluck the fish from the sea. In sudden shock, Pallas flinched away instinctively, her momentum dying--and the owl's shriek morphed into a high hoot of laughter as she instantly staved off her predatory dive to coast over the finish line.

Athena had won.

The spectating gods erupted into cheers and boos. As the owl transfigured back into the young goddess, Zeus boomed out praises for his daughter. Hera clapped politely. Artemis fired a shot from her bow up to the stars in celebration and Hermes set about collecting dues from those who had bet on Pallas. Ares looked particularly infuriated.

Pallas swam to the surface and assumed her human form the moment she broke into the air.

"The agreement was that we wouldn't interfere with each other!" she accused, pouting. "You--!"

She stopped herself from accusing Athena of being a cheater when she saw Zeus's thunderous face, but Athena didn't seem perturbed.

"That was the agreement indeed," she said. "Yet I never attacked you--only acted as if I would. Had you kept your head on you, you'd have understood it as either a fakeout or a way for you to earn an automatic victory." She smiled and tapped her forehead. "Dearest Pallas, you're so very genuine--it's part of what I like about you. But did you really think the goddess of wisdom wouldn't employ mindgames?"

Pallas pouted again but didn't challenge Athena. Everything she said was flawless, curse her. The gods nodded in approval, and even Zeus seemed mollified.

"What was the wager again?" Athena asked. "For the loser to give the victor whatever she wished? Well then. Pallas, daughter of Triton--I require of you a night's dalliance."

A chorus of shocked murmurs rippled through the spectators, even a few gasps. Athena's relationship with Pallas was something of an open secret, but neither goddess had outright proclaimed it like this.

Pallas's heart stopped--but only for a moment. "My Lady Athena," she said, "a dalliance is the one thing I cannot give."

Gasps cracked the onlookers like a whip. Hera looked shocked; Lord Zeus looked ready to unleash his thunder. "Why you--!" he began.

"Because," Pallas pressed, "a dalliance implies something ephemeral or non-committal. That would do us both a disserve, Lady Athena." She drifted over to her girlfriend and clasped her hands, kneeling. "You know as well as I do that this is no flight of girlish fancy. I... love you." More murmurs rang through the onlookers. Aphrodite, lurking in the back, smiled knowingly. "My heart is yours, Athena," she said, "as is my life. In place of the dalliance you asked for, I offer them to you, if you'll have them, for as long as you wish."

Silence rang over the sea, broken only by the stirring of the waves. Finally, Athena pulled Pallas up. "Accepted," she said softly. "In view of the gods, I accept this. With the blessing of Olympus... from here on, we are one." She turned, still holding Pallas's hands, and met Zeus's eyes. "Father?"

Zeus had still looked angry during Pallas's confession, but even he couldn't stay angry at his favorite daughter. His countenance softened. "If that is your wish," he said, "then so be it, daughter. You have Olympus's blessing. Athena and Pallas are united in bonds of love and marriage."

Beaming, tears of happiness misting her eyes, Athena pulled Pallas up--and then, in front of the onlooking crowd, she happily kissed her wife.

---

Triton's only objection was that he had missed the proclamation. He and his servants quickly moved Pallas's things from his palace up to Athena's chambers in Olympus. Pallas took it all in with wide eyes--the place where she would be living from now on. The chambers of an Olympian.

"Is it everything you hoped?" Athena asked modestly. The curtains were impeccable, the walls flawless marble, the counters spread with the finest grapes and cheeses and fresh breads. The bed was an elaborate four-poster that felt softer than seafoam.

It was lovely, but Pallas would have even been happy with Tartarus itself--so long as she could spend it with Athena. When she told her that, Athena had blushed.

That night was their first together as wives.

There wasn't much sleep, of course. Both of them were naked under the sheets, their bodies pressed together. Pallas was strong and muscled, with a generous chest; Athena was taller but more slight. At first, Pallas was content to curl against her wife, leaning her head in the crook of her shoulder, hand holding her tight--but then Athena grasped her hand and led it down to her breast.

Pallas squeezed and the goddess of wisdom moaned, pushing her chest against Pallas's touch. Pallas squeezed again, harder, and felt Athena shudder against her.

Reaching her hand up, Athena stroked Pallas's hair, murmuring as her wife continued to tenderly minister to her chest. Every kneading touch of Pallas's seemed to make her almost coo with delight.

After a few minutes, Athena rolled over onto her side, gazing into Pallas's eyes. Athena's gaze was like that of her owls, wide and knowing. "I can't believe you did that," she said. "Proposed in front of father. What if he'd said no? What was your backup plan?"

"I don't know if I had a backup plan," Pallas admitted. Athena stared at her shocked for a few moments before bursting out laughing.

"What madness! Oh, I can't believe it. You... you..." She took Pallas's head in her hands and nuzzled against her. "You are such a wonderful fool of a woman."

"A fool?" Pallas responded. "Perhaps something you can correct, my lady?"

"And undo what I love? I'd rather see winter follow spring follow summer. Though I must ask," Athena said, "your proposal of marriage to me... was that what you'd intended if you'd won our little competition?"

"Perhaps," said Pallas, meaning yes.

"Why you!" Athena said with a pleased laugh. "To have gotten what you wanted despite losing!"

"If I got my desired outcome regardless of who won," Pallas purred, "then perhaps I managed to outsmart the goddess of wisdom?"

In response, Athena kissed her fiercely. "That mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble," Athena said when she broke the kiss. Her eyes glimmered with sudden playfulness. "Perhaps we can find something to occupy it..."

Pallas didn't need any more than that. Humming with delight, she dipped her head down between her wife's legs. Placing one hand on either of Athena's thighs to steady herself--and even the touch of her hand to Athena's flesh made the goddess tense and moan--she began to eat her out.

It was far from her first go, of course. They'd explored one another quite thoroughly during Athena's stay under the ocean. Pallas knew all of her wife's weaknesses.

She lathered her tongue up the soft mound of Athena's sex, dragging it slow and pushing ever-so-softly. Athena tensed and gasped underneath her. Ah, even Sappho would be jealous of such a wonderful touch. She lapped at her again, then again once more, each time picking up her pace just slightly.

Dipping her tongue a little deeper, Pallas parted Athena's folds and teased her entrance before reaching up to swirl her tongue around the goddess's clit. Athena's voice was moaning and inarticulate, but Pallas knew the intent behind those noises: don't stop, don't stop. She didn't intend to.

After teasing her wife's clit for a few seconds, Pallas moved her mouth a little closer to Athena's womanhood, and then she sucked in. The goddess arched her back and forced out a whine as her tender flesh filled Pallas's mouth. Pallas stopped sucking, giving her a moment's breathing room, and then she did it again, this time playing around it with her tongue. As Athena sobbed incoherently, Pallas reached up and gently rubbed her clit.

And the goddess of wisdom came.

Afterwards, both of them sticky messes, they cuddled, Pallas murmuring with pleasure as Athena gently palmed and rubbed her tit. "Can we really do this?" she said. "A lesser goddess and an Olympian? It just doesn't seem real..."

"You're no lesser goddess," Athena chided. "You're my lover and my wife. If it doesn't seem real, I'll make it real. Whatever doubts you have, I'll chase them away. I swear it." Her lips brushed Pallas's cheek; she pushed close, their breasts pressing together. "I swear it."

Pallas believed her. As she drifted off to sleep in Olympus, all she could think about was how lucky she was to have Athena as her wife.