Disclaimer:::: I DON'T own the wonderful song Rolling in the Deep by Adele and I DON'T own Game of thrones

Rolling in the Deep

He was playing with her, she knew. He always mocked her, even tangled in his silken sheets at they were.

Yvonne wanted to pull away—gods knew he wouldn't stop her—but her body refused to move from the warmth of his chest. His heart was so steady and strong, like the beat of a war drum, while hers sounded like the rhythm of a song at some feast, fast and hard.

Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer as known by everyone in the seven kingdoms, sighed tiredly and pulled away from his lover, Yvonne Rosby, wife of the future Lord Gared Rosby. Yvonne was not surprised, it was expected that he'd pull away first, but she did feel the dull sting of rejection.

Jaime stood naked from the bed and walked to the chest where the pitcher of wine sat. The setting sun cast soft shadows over his strong, lean body.

Yvonne fallowed the muscular line of his arms to his legs, down to his feet. He was so gorgeous, so like her in many ways, but he just could not see it. His wit, his affair with his whore of a sister, his views on the way of life at court...it all clouded his eyes from her, who she really was, what she felt and what she was capable of. If he knew her at all, perhaps he would not be so careless with her heart.

She watched him pour himself a cup and take a long swig of the summer wine.

Still, she felt so strongly for him. So deeply in fact that she could not bring herself to tell King Robert when she caught Jaime and Queen Cersei in a passionate kiss in the library a year ago. It had made her horribly ill, to see siblings like that, and though she loved the thought of Cersei's head on display for all to see, she could not bear the thought of Jaime's head alongside hers.

Was this love she felt for the Kingslayer? That type of devotion was something she only had for her husband, Gared, but she did not love him either.

The thought of her husband sent a jolt of fear and shame through her that quickly faded. Gared Rosby was twelve years her senior, handsome, save for his missing teeth and her husband for nearly five years. Yvonne was what, (she thought), everything a wife had to be: she kept his secrets, she let him inside her every now and again, she would bring down any who ever threatened her husband's good name and she was discreet with her trysts with Jaime. Of course she had no intention whatsoever of ever letting Gared know what she was up to whenever she snuck away. She did not love Gared, but did not know how exactly she felt for the Kingslayer either.

All she knew was that Jaime both disgusted her and fascinated her. She wanted to be near him and with him, yet could not stand his touch, knowing he had also been with Cersei.

"You can't stay here tonight." Jaime said suddenly, pulling Yvonne from her thoughts and drawing her grey eyes up to him. "Well, you can" he said mockingly, as he said almost everything. "Only I won't be here and I doubt that when my squire comes in the morning that you being under my bed sheets naked would be very seemly."

Yvonne rolled her eyes and stood as well; she stepped around the large bed and leant against the post, completely nude and watching him without shame. She knew he found her beautiful; otherwise he would have never touched her. Like everyone else, she had once assumed that his lack beautiful wenches in his bed was either profound discretion or he was too proud for low bred girls and by-the-hour whores. Now, though she was not sure, with revulsion and fury, she was starting to believe it had been faithfulness... for her, his sister.

What did that make her? The other woman? The thought made a bitter chuckle pass her lips.

"Really?" she said with a teasing smile. "Well, I think I can think of a way to make you stay, ser." she sauntered over to him, her hips moving so rhythmically and confidently, though her heart was beating furiously within her breast. She stopped and few feet before him, still smiling and snatched the goblet from his hand.

Yvonne turned and downed the last mouthful of wine as she walked back around the bed. She set the goblet down on the bedside table and picked up her discarded shift. Without another explanation she began to dress. He would not stop her. When Jaime said he wanted her to leave, there was no swaying him, so it was useless to try.

She hummed in annoyance to find that the bodice of her fine silk gown had been torn from Jaime. Bastard, she thought, this was silk from the Free Cities! Scowling, she pulled the sapphire coloured gown up her lithe body and put her arms through the long sleeves. With carefulness, she tied the broken laces back together again, never feeling the eyes on her.

Jaime walked up behind her and ran his knuckles up the long line of her back. "Lovely," his whispered, before bending down to kiss her neck. Yvonne's pink lips twitched up into a small smile. It was rare that Jaime ever showed any interest or affection toward her afterward, but when he did, she savoured it.

It felt good to be admired by a man, even if it was a lie. Her husband had a certain...predilection for his own sex. He only came to her bed when his family mocked him for not getting her with child yet.

But as soon as Jaime's fingers touched the ends of her wheat coloured hair, the spell was broken and he pulled away like he always did. She hid her disappointment, years of practice serving her well.

She turned around, fastening her gold coloured belt around her midsection. Despite the relative order of her garb, her hair was still slightly tousled from Jaime's gripping hands and their constant writhing on the sheets. Her face grew warm and a jolt of pleasure shot down between her thighs as she remembered what they had been doing, not even an hour ago.

Yvonne turned around, seeing that he was already pulling up his breeches and re-lacing them, with that same smirk on his handsome face. For some odd reason never before felt, this customary action bothered her. The mundane task of the lacing of his breeches and that smirk...it was as if he were mocking her with a cruelty that would make her want to weep.

"My dear Lion of Lannister," she smirked sweetly at him. "My husband is going hunting on the morrow with the king and his troop...I'll be alone all day." she sounded so horribly like a pathetic widow that hadn't had a man in years, but she didn't care. Her mouth spoke the words she needed to speak.

Jaime's smirk never faltered, even when the light in her eyes dimmed at seeing his lips part and a sarcastic jibe leave his lips. "I'm afraid not, lady, but Lord Rykker would be more than happy to hop between your legs." Her delicate brows narrowed in fury. Lord Rykker disgusted her, his crooked old body and liver spotted hands and that boil on his chest. Once before at the Princess Myrcella's name day feast, she had heard him whisper to his squire that he wouldn't mind giving her a child since her husband was obviously so lacking in the bedroom.

But that was not the dead center of her anger...she knew why he refused. No king around meant him and his whore had time alone. She only asked to know, to be certain.

Despite her humiliation, she kept her head high as her father had always taught her. "Well, Kingslayer, I doubt Lord Rykker's old body would be able to stay above mine very long, but then," she looked Jaime up and down once. "Perhaps it won't be so different." calling him 'Kingslayer' was a sorry attempt at coaxing a reaction from him, but she didn't care. She knew it bothered him to be mocked so when he knew he had done the realm a service by killing the madman they called king.

Jaime kept smirking at her, though she could see the twinge of annoyance and anger behind his cool eyes.

"Well, Lady Rosby, he has enough little whelps running around...maybe the old man can finally get you with child." He saw her eyes glisten and her smirk fall, and felt a tug at his stomach at his statement but forced it away. While the people in the castle—the Realm—called him Kingslayer, they called her the Barren-Lady.

Yvonne was nearly thirty and married for five years and still no little lords and ladies toddling about. There were whispers that Gared Rosby's family were going to go to Robert and plead that should Gared have any future bastards, they be made legitimate. It was an embarrassing blow to have your husband's bastards be made legitimate when they were nonexistent. Jaime did not know if it were the whispers around her that bothered her or the fact that she could not have children that pained her so, but he did not care. At least she won't get with my bastard, he thought.

Yvonne locked her jaw and pursed her lips, trying to ignore the urge to step forward and slap the smirk off his handsome face. Without thinking, Yvonne spoke words that she had sworn never to utter.

"Keep in mind Jaime, that I can destroy you...and not with our little trysts." She glared at him, feeling a lifting sense of pride at seeing the great and fearless Jaime Lannister stiffen at her threat. But at the same time, she knew she had made a mistake.

No waiting around to see what he would say or do, Yvonne gathered her skirts and walked to the door. Without caring who saw her leave his chambers, Yvonne opened the large, heavy doors and stepped out into the corridor.

As Lady Rosby walked toward her apartments, she did not notice that one of the Spider's little birds was watching her.

Hi...um I'm really not sure about this, but I really really wanted to get it out there :/

So, I might make this into a story, might just keep it like this...it really all depends...:) Also, the title may change!

my first Jaime story so please be gentle...Jaime was hard for me to write :(