Sandor Clegane stood at the back, his arms crossed while he watched a flurry of white and pink go past, the sound of a piano tuning up floated across the room. He had been working there for a week now but Sandor still wasn't sure whether a ballet studio was his thing. He had worked security at various companies and events before but this was a first.

The floor where the company rehearsed was the highest, with large windows and mirrors covering the walls. The sound of laughter filled the air and the girls ran about the room as they got ready for their rehearsal; chatting as they warmed up and adjusted their hair. They were to perform Swan Lake in a few weeks time at a local city theatre and the company had gained a popular reputation.

Sandor found the girl he had nicknamed 'little bird', who was to play the lead, stood stretching on the wooden bar by herself. She had her auburn hair piled into a bun on her head and she wore a white leotard and her tutu was made of white feathers, which would flutter to the ground whenever she danced. The little bird had a graceful air about her and had a slender body, but there was something almost melancholic about the way she held herself and moved.

The manager came over to her presently and spoke to the little bird as he traced his fingertips across her arm in a way that made Sandor's skin crawl. The pay here was good, the main reason Sandor had stayed, but he couldn't stand the manager, Petyr Baelish. He was a cunning and clever man yet the way he fawned over the girl all the time made Sandor feel uneasy. The little bird never said a word against it though, nor did she flinch away. She simply looked elsewhere with dull eyes and Sandor wondered whether she had grown used to it, grown to ignore it. The other girls kept their distance from her, believing her to be the manager's favourite, so the little bird kept to herself. Baelish called her 'Alayne', yet Sandor got the strange feeling that wasn't her name.

Sandor watched as the other dancers assembled behind the little bird who kept her eyes on the floor, taking deep breaths. The piano song floated under her feet as the girl twirled, her body controlled and smooth. A flurry of white feathers were swept into the air as she leapt across the floor, her expression almost afraid as she spun in a tight circle.

Suddenly her ankle shot out from under her and the girl shrieked as she fell to the floor. Sandor took a step forward to see if she was alright, but thought better of it and stayed where he was.

The girl bit her lip, curling her leg towards her protectively as the piano music stopped and Petyr Baelish rushed forward and scolded her, but kissed her forehead while the little bird clutched her ankle in pain.

For the rest of the rehearsal, the little bird sat out, seeming disinterested in everything else as she stared out of the window at the clouds drifting past. Sandor could sympathise with the girl, throughout his life he had kept to the shadows, avoiding contact and relationships when he could, leading a solitary life. However Sandor now found himself growing curious about the mysterious silent girl who danced across the floor like a ghost.

That evening Sandor was finishing his patrol of the building and reached the top floor, to find the little bird sat on the ground looking out of the window as she had been that afternoon. She was wearing a loose white shirt over a pair of grey leggings and Sandor saw her ankle was bandaged up.

Sandor walked into the room hesitantly and the girl looked up, surprised.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he said in his rasping voice.

"It's ok," the girl replied.

Sandor clenched his hands into fists then loosened them. He took a step towards her.

"How's the ankle?" He asked.

"Better," she said with a faint smile.

There was an awkward silence for a few moments and the only noise was the sound of cars driving past outside.

"You can sit down if you want," the girl said.

Sandor scratched his head. He saw no harm in it so he sat down, facing her, his arms outstretched behind him.

"What's your name?" The little bird asked.

"Sandor," he replied. "I do the security here."

The girl nodded. "I've seen you here before."

"It's Alayne, right?" Sandor said slowly, still unsure.

Upon hearing that name, she got a strange look in her eyes. "Sansa."

Sandor frowned. "Then why does Baelish call you Alayne?"

Sansa turned away. "He's done a lot for me so I don't question his actions."

Sandor wondered whether she was referring to the way Baelish touched her so frequently, but didn't want to ask.

"You seem like you've danced before," he said, changing the subject.

"A bit, when I was younger my parents used to take me," Sansa paused. "Then I moved here and met Mr Baelish. He's the one that got me this job; apparently the role was perfect for me."

Sandor chuckled. "It does suit you."

Sansa laughed, breaking through the far away expression she always wore, and Sandor found himself happy to hear it. Suddenly she broke off, as if remembering something.

"I need to head back; I have curfew and I should probably rest my ankle," Sansa said, a hint of sadness appearing in her voice.

Sandor nodded and watched as the little bird attempted to stand, but her ankle gave way and she fell back with a thump.

He grinned. "Need a hand?"

Sansa blushed. "Thank you."

Sandor stood up and gently pulled Sansa to her feet, finding her hand soft and delicate in his. He put one arm over his shoulder and together they left the room.

"Sorry for making you do this," Sansa said as she hobbled down the corridor.

"You'd only go and fall down the stairs anyway, and with the show coming up it would be a bad idea," Sandor replied. "You nervous?"

"No I'm fine," Sansa said firmly.

Sandor raised an eyebrow. "No point in singing those songs with me, girl. Just be honest and we'll get along fine."

Sansa sighed. "I'm very nervous. I'm scared of Mr Baelish being disappointed with me. That would make the other girls..." she trailed off.

By this point they had begun to descend the stairs, their footsteps echoing throughout the empty studios as they approached the entrance.

"So is he your guardian?" Sandor asked, curious.

"Something like that," Sansa replied quietly.

Sandor frowned. "Well why don't you just do what you want? Don't let the others push you around like that. If they don't like what they see, fuck them. Just be happy."

They had reached the entrance by then and Sansa stopped and looked up at him, a flicker of hope in her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something but suddenly Petyr appeared behind her and put a firm hand on her shoulder. Sansa jumped slightly but didn't turn around, knowing who it was.

Petyr smiled tightly at Sandor. "It seems you've made a friend, Alayne."

Sansa froze, keeping her eyes down.

Sandor stared back at the manager, his eyes cool. "Just making sure she's alright."

"Well," Petyr replied. "I'll take it from here. Come along, Alayne, we're going home."

He dropped his hand to Sansa's waist, to which Sandor narrowed his eyes, and pulled her away towards a parked car down the steps from them. She looked back at Sandor for a moment.

"See you tomorrow, little bird," Sandor said, grinning.

Sansa blinked in surprise at the nickname but smiled, a laugh appearing in her eyes, before turning away and climbing into the car.