Salt

Chapter Three

   Sandor kissed her back heatedly, and Valentina moved so that she once again was on top of him. It was a more comfortable position; he on his back and her straddled above him, leaning down and kissing his lips with a passion unlike one she'd ever felt before. Her hands, once strong and domineering, were now gentle on Sandor's muscular chest. His hands were rough, but in a sense Val had never felt anything softer; one rested on her bum and the other gently on her cheek, carefully stroking her flesh with his thumb. She pulled away soon after and relaxed her chest down onto his, her hands falling lazily now on his shoulders. "Your kisses are mediocre," She teased, smiling brightly as her dainty, benign little fingers traced small and intricate patterns on his chest. "I think you should give me more to prove that you aren't so commonplace."

"Mediocre or not, you know you'll always come crawling back for more, little dove. I bet you look quite pretty on your knees."

"Would you like to find out?" Valentina moved her fingers to her lips, sliding two into her mouth slowly and then pulling them out with a wet 'pop'. She smirked at him, "maybe you will someday."

"Maybe I will tonight."

"Not tonight, big boy. Even if I can feel your cock pressin' up against my thigh." She rolled off of him, turning so that her back was to him and she tucked her hands below her head. "It's late. I will be the last woman asleep in Dorne if I don't get some rest now; I suggest you do the same, Sandor Clegane of Westeros."

"You already are the last woman asleep in Dorne." Sandor retorted, but Valentina was not to be bothered. She was silent, and soon enough Sandor had gotten over his usual cantankerous demeanor and began to wonder if there was a casual way that he could hold her. Instead, he kept his hands to himself but slept close to her as if to protect her from harm. That night, Sandor would find out that Valentina was a rough sleeper. She tossed and turned and would even mumble quiet moans in her sleep; which Sandor would admit was actually quite admirable. Halfway through the night she rolled into his embrace and moved her arms around his neck, burying her face into his chest. "San," she mumbled quietly, but never finished her thought and fell back asleep.

In the morning, Sandor was surprised to have woken up alone. He sat up on his elbows, looking around the large room that was dim due to the girl's thick curtains that prevented most of the sunlight from coming inside. Looking to his side, he noticed that Valentina had left him a glass of dark, rich wine. It had only been a day, he thought, and the girl knew just the kind of man he was. He downed the wine and got dressed, beginning to search the temple for either Val or Arya.

"My bet is on father!" Ylvia cheered, clapping her hands excitedly as she watched the ongoing duel.

"Foolish girl, of course father won't win. Valentina is a sword-fighting goddess. My money's on little sister." Pietra took a silver coin from her pocket and placed it on the table in front of her, continuing to listen in on her other sister's conversations about the same thing: who will win the vicious practice dual between Valentina and Olisstor Castillon. In a quick swipe of her sword, Valentina pressed the cold blade against her father's neck and Ollistor dropped his own weapon.

"I yield." He surrendered, "It's embarrassing to yield to a woman, let alone my youngest girl. You are becoming a fine fighter, Valentina. Soon you will be able to partake in our wars."

"I already can partake in the wars, father. You underestimate my skill." Valentina removed her helmet, holding it beneath her arm.

"You're still a child, Val; a little girl."

"I weigh more than you, father."