ALMOST MET (Series)
Gwendoline Christie x freader
Chapter: One
Words: 1185 (short chapter)
Warnings: none that I know of well except maybe fake sword fights.
Summary: Y/n gets a role in game of thrones season three and happens to catch a glimpse of Gwendoline Christie on set. Will they ever meet ?
Authors note: I will update as soon as you want more. Already wrote chapter two and three so don’t worry. It’s not impossible that I’m to lazy to reread sometimes, so don’t be alarmed if you find larger spelling mistakes. Enjoy <3 (hopefully)
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She stood just beyond the flurry of crew members, her boots crunching softly on gravel, her breath slightly quick from excitement and nerves. Her short brown hair was a little tousled from the breeze, curls fluttering around her cheeks, and her dark eyes darted from tent to tent, camera rig to costumed actor. Everything was new. Everything was enormous. And yet, she couldn’t stop smiling.
“Alright, Y/n?” a kind voice asked, brushing past her with a clipboard clutched tightly in hand. It was one of the production assistants — Nora, maybe? Or Natalie?
Y/n nodded quickly. “Yeah! I mean—yes. Just… taking it all in.”
The assistant smiled and didn’t press further, disappearing into the organized chaos of the set. Y/n smoothed her hands down her jacket and inhaled, steadying herself. This was her first day filming for Game of Thrones — she’d been cast as a new character in Season 3, a minor noblewoman with ties to one of the northern houses. Nothing groundbreaking, but enough screen time to be noticeable. Enough to mean something. And definitely enough to make her knees weak with anticipation.
She wandered slowly, letting her curiosity guide her. She passed groups of extras in furs and armor, their modern sneakers poking out from beneath chainmail until someone inevitably scolded them. She passed a catering tent where someone laughed too loudly, the sound rising above the soft hum of conversation. She paused at one of the trailers to peer at the name on the door: Lena Headey. Her stomach flipped — the Cersei Lannister — and she quickly kept walking, cheeks warm.
As she rounded a cluster of prop wagons, the sound of shouting caught her attention. Not angry shouting, but the kind of intense projection used in dramatic scenes. Instinctively, she stepped closer, drawn toward the energy.
In a field sectioned off by equipment and lighting rigs, a scene was unfolding. Two actors were in the thick of a heated exchange — swords out, voices sharp. One of them, a tall woman in armor, stood poised like a statue carved from marble and fury. Her blond hair was cropped close, shorter than Y/n’s own curls, and framed her chiseled features with sharp elegance. She was captivating.
Gwendoline Christie.
Even from where she stood, Y/n could feel the strength of her presence. She radiated confidence, every movement controlled yet powerful. Her voice carried easily across the field, and not just because of volume — there was something magnetic about it, something that made people turn their heads.
Y/n didn’t realize she was holding her breath until the other actor lunged, and Gwendoline blocked the blow with effortless grace. It wasn’t a real fight, of course, but the choreography was so clean it might as well have been. Y/n found herself leaning slightly forward, hands curled in the sleeves of her jacket, a little starstruck. She’d seen Gwendoline on screen before, of course, but nothing compared to seeing her in the flesh — the raw intensity of her performance, the way she occupied space without demanding it.
As the scene neared its end, the director — a stocky man with salt-and-pepper hair and a bright scarf wrapped around his neck — caught sight of Y/n out of the corner of his eye. He turned away from the monitor, beaming.
“There you are! Y/n, come here a sec!” he called, waving her over.
Y/n startled, blinking as if waking from a dream. She gave an awkward, apologetic smile and quickly made her way toward him, boots crunching softly against the grass.
From the field, Gwendoline’s gaze flicked up just in time to see a petite woman with short, dark waves disappearing behind the tents with the director. She tilted her head slightly, catching only the edges of a smile before it vanished from view.
“Who was that?” she murmured, mostly to herself. The scene was called to a cut, but Gwendoline remained still for a moment, eyes narrowing thoughtfully at the space where the newcomer had stood. Then she shook herself, laughing a little under her breath. “Curious,” she said to no one in particular, and moved to reset for another take.
Meanwhile, Y/n followed the director toward a smaller tent set up beside one of the equipment trailers. The air inside was warmer, thick with the scent of coffee and freshly printed scripts.
“Sorry to pull you away like that,” the director said, offering her a seat. “Just wanted to touch base before we get into blocking tomorrow. You settling in okay?”
“Oh, yes! Thank you,” Y/n said quickly, sitting with her hands folded in her lap. “Everyone’s been really nice. It’s… a lot, but in a good way.”
“Glad to hear it,” he said, flipping through a folder. “You’ve got some good scenes coming up — we wanted someone with expressive eyes and a kind presence. You nailed the audition, by the way.”
Y/n blushed, lowering her gaze with a shy smile. “That means a lot. I really love this world.”
He grinned. “Well, you’re a part of it now. You’ll be in scenes with Robb Stark’s crowd, mostly, but we might have you cross paths with Brienne later in the season. Gwendoline, that is.”
Her ears perked up at the name. “Oh, she’s incredible,” she murmured before she could stop herself. “I, um… I saw her filming earlier. She’s just—wow.”
The director chuckled. “Yeah, she’s something else. Kind as hell, too. You’ll like her.”
Y/n nodded, but a flicker of nervousness danced in her chest. She wasn’t used to sharing space with people so… commanding. And yet, something about Gwendoline’s presence didn’t feel intimidating, exactly. More like… intriguing.
“Anyway,” the director continued, pushing the folder toward her, “here’s your shooting schedule for the next few days. Nothing too early, and we’ll get you into costume this afternoon for a quick fitting.”
Y/n took the folder, her fingers brushing the worn edges. “Thanks,” she said softly.
As she stepped out of the tent a few minutes later, the clouds had shifted. The sun peeked through, casting a warm halo of light over the fields and tents. In the distance, a tall silhouette with armor and golden hair caught her eye before vanishing around the corner.
Y/n stood still for a moment, heart ticking a little faster.
And somewhere nearby, Gwendoline Christie was asking a crew member, “Do you know who that new girl is?”
Neither of them knew it yet, but the first spark had already flickered to life.
<<To be continued>>
