the archer - chapter one
Help me hold onto you.
♦ summary: You never know who you’ll meet at a wedding.
♦ pairing: Matthew Tkachuk X OC
♦ word count: 3K+
♦ warnings: Strong language. Alcohol. Let me know if I miss any.
October 4, 2019
Snagging a seat in the last row, Matthew Tkachuk kept his gaze down as he pretended to study the program he’d just been handed, wondering not for the first time today what exactly he was doing. He’d only played one junior season with Tristan Drake. They won the Memorial Cup together with the Knights, they weren’t terribly close, but he’d been glad to know at least one person in Calgary when he arrived in his new city that fall. He felt a little guilty that they hung out less and less as his season picked up and he got to know his new team. Now they really only spoke at the beginning of the season, when he picked up a new lease from the Audi dealership Tristan worked at. Seeing the invite to Tristan’s wedding tucked in a stack of mail waiting for him post road trip one day last spring surprised Matthew. Though he had a feeling the invite had come more from the bride hoping he’d send his regards and a nice gift than Tristian wanting him to be part of his special day. Not knowing next season’s schedule, he hadn’t been sure he could actually make it when he sent in his RSVP, but they started off with a home stretch and the wedding date fell on a Sunday with no game the day of or after. It gave him just enough time to zip out to Banff, breathe in some fresh mountain air, blow off some steam with a bridesmaid, and make it back to practice Monday ready for the Kings to come to town. He may as well get his moneys worth for the overpriced blender. Perched at the foot for a mountain, just far enough off Banff’s main drag to still be surrounded with a fairytale-esc forest where it didn’t overlook the river, The Fairmont Banff Springs Hotel rose above the tree line like a castle. An unseasonably early dream like blanket of snow covered the historic hotel and he was glad it hadn’t warmed enough to melt it. Matthew kept a low profile before the ceremony, checking into his room early and taking his time getting ready until he was certain he’d only just beat the bride out to the terrace overlooking the river. Now he sat here in the back row, praying that if there were any hockey fans in the house that they didn’t cheer for either side of the Battle of Alberta. He just wanted a one night reprieve from being the most hated man in Canada. Suddenly the string quartet struck up with a cover of a pop song he couldn’t quite put his finger on as a basketball teams worth of bridesmaids and groomsmen filed down the aisle. Matthew licked his lips to hide a smirk as he took in the almost shiny dark green suits the groom and groomsmen wore, monochrome with a vest, shirt, and bowtie all in the same almost metallic fabric. He suddenly felt very lucky he hadn’t stayed that close with Tristan. The ladies wore equally shiny rust coloured bridesmaids dresses, clearly picked out to match what would’ve been an ideal autumn setting overlooking the river and the forest beyond it - if it hadn’t been for the snow. Now they looked a roll of pennies, huddled close together at the alter in their strapless dresses like they were conserving body heat. This was already off to a fantastic start. The string quartet changed tunes and Matthew stood with the rest of the guests when the officiant asked them to rise for the bride. Of course, instead of coming out of the same nearby door the rest of the wedding party had just entered from, the bride choose to make a grand entrance from the glass atrium perched at the end of a long walk way that ended in a large stone staircase clear across the terrace. He bit the inside of his cheek a moment later, trying not to smirk as her full dress came into view when she reached the top of the staircase with her father. The puffy bottom of the dress made her look like a pastry and the slinky top made it clear she was about to be a frozen one. The cream puff still had a long walk and she was clearly in no hurry, milking the walk for all it was worth as the rest of the crowd fixed their focus solely on her. This was her moment, so Matthew decided to turn his attention to the groom, curious how his former teammate was reacting to the spectacle. But as his gaze passed over the crowd he stopped short, his stomach dropping as he caught a glimpse of Aphrodite in the third row. Her hair was pulled back away from her face but not up, leaving the length of it to hang in loose waves pulled forward over her shoulders. Something in her long blonde hair - likely the pins holding it in place - glittered, catching the light the same way her long sleeve, long slit, long everything burgundy velvet dress had. She glowed in the golden hour light in a way the bride had no doubt wanted to herself. Her lips were a perfect crimson cupids bow, pressed into a tight, polite smile as she leaned in closer to hear something the shorter, blonder carbon copy beside her was whispering in her ear. For all they looked alike, they were polar opposites today. Where one glowed golden, the other shined with an icy coolness. Her paler blonde hair was pulled up in the sort of severe twisted updo you only see at weddings, her navy blue silk gown so deep it was almost black. They must be sisters, Matthew decided, watching as the younger one grinned at him. Her sister’s eyes had never left the bride, until suddenly they were on him too. They were green. A warm earthy sage, wide with surprise to meet his gaze. Her cheeks flushed as she just as quickly dropped her gaze and Matthew swallowed hard. He couldn’t look away, his heart pulling in his chest in a foreign, desperate way he’d never felt before. He needed her to look up, needed those green eyes back on him. His heart raced in anticipation as she reached up and brushed a rogue, loose strand of golden hair behind her ear. Her polite smile cracked into a shy, embarrassed grin when she finally met his gaze again. God, it was like watching the sun come out. Even some of the hardest hits he’d taken on the ice hadn’t knocked the wind out of him the way one glance from those green eyes had. Hunter Harris’ heart was beating right out of her chest. It was hard to breathe, pinned in place by the unblinking stare of piercing blue eyes. She hadn’t been expecting the absolute jolt of electricity that hit her when she’d met his gaze. She pulled her gaze away quickly, like she’d actually been shocked, but the electricity hung in the air between them. It crackled with anticipation, pulling at her heart, demanding her attention until she finally caved, meeting his eye again. His face was stoic, somehow completely expressionless and she bit her lip as she wondered how amazing it would feel to crack the hard exterior and make him smile. Oh god, he had curls. His hair was short on the sides but long on top and he had goddamn curls. He was tall, broad shouldered, but his navy blue suit was so well tailored she could see the way his torso tapered in from fifteen feet away. Matthew wanted to move, he wanted to walk over there, to kiss her if she’d let him as crazy as it sounded, or at the very least put a name to the greenest eyes he’d ever seen. But just as suddenly as the moment had started, it shattered. The bride who’d been 50 feet away only a second ago, was now walking down the aisle between them, snapping Matthew back to reality. Those green eyes flashed wide, like she was just as surprised to realize they were still standing in a crowd of people as he was. Her playful grin slipped away, disappearing into a forced smile as her gaze returned to the bride. He felt the loss almost instantly, like he’d been stripped of the puck on a breakaway and now had nowhere to go with his built up momentum. She’d already turned back around, her complete attention focused on the alter as the father of the bride gave her hand to the groom. Matthew couldn’t focus. One look. He just needed one more look from her to know he wasn’t loosing his goddamn mind. That he hadn’t completely hallucinated the rush he’d just felt between them. As the minister told the guests to be seated, Matthew could’ve crowed with relief, could have screamed like he’d scored the championship winning goal in OT when she turned, pretending to be carefully gathering her skirt before she sat and looked back at him over her shoulder. That brief glance, the secret smile, that alone was already enough to have been worth the drive. *** The hall they were shuffled into for the reception was liking walking out onto a Shakespearean set. With high stucco walls, exposed beam bowed ceilings, wrought iron chandeliers, and a pair of picturesque Juliette balcony’s cut into the wall from the floor above. He almost wondered if the bride would try to make an appearance on one for the drama of it. Matthew groaned to himself when he spotted the seating chart just inside the door was covered in goofy black and white photos of all the guests that had been edited to look like polaroids and had everyones name and table number written on the bottom. He could only imagine the photo they had of him. He chuckled when he spotted it, a grainy snap of him in his Knights gear, donning a sombrero the night he scored four goals against Sarnia. Could’ve been worse. He glanced down below the photo and smirked, Table Seven, of course. He should be glad they didn’t have a Table Nineteen. Scanning the rest of the chart, he hoped to spot a photo that was obviously the woman in red but frowned when nothing immediately stood out. She had to be one of the dozen or so baby photos spread out across the board. He’d just have to head to the bar for now and hope to spot her again when she came in. “What a bag!” Harper exclaimed and Hunter immediately shhh’d her little sister, glancing at the ground as other guest looked over, “I sent her other much more embarrassing photos of you and she choses that one? Really?” “Calm down, who cares? It’s not like our entire side of the wedding party doesn’t already know.” Hunter bit her lip, glancing back up at the photo. She was standing beside the ocean, in a long flowing dress in shock at the man in front of her on one knee. Her cousin Sophie had scribbled out his face with a Sharpie and her own face was thankfully hidden behind her hair, but it would be glaringly obvious to any of the 8.2 million people who’d witnessed the moment exactly who it was. Hunter swallowed hard as she pulled her gaze away to the table number scrawled beneath her name. Table Seven, thank god. She could spend the rest of the night hiding in the back corner, praying for an uneventful evening to end so she could escape back to her room. “She doesn’t even have us at the same table.” Harper scoffed, pointing to a mirror selfieof herself and her boyfriend Logan. It wasn’t even all that goofy, they were both dressed up for his brothers wedding back in July, leaning in close to get a shot together in the thin stand up mirror. Under both their names was Table Two, clear across the ballroom and Hunter sighed when she glanced around the chart, noticing a pattern. “Looks like you’re at a photogenic couples table at the front of the room and I’m at the sad singles table in the back.” she rolled her eyes, stepping away from the chart so the older couple behind them could find their seats. Harper shook her head, silently seething, “I’ll kill her, I don’t care if it’s her wedding day, I’ll do it.” Hunter chuckled, squeezing her little sisters shoulder, “It’s fine, they’re less likely to notice if I slip out early like the spinster she clearly thinks I am.” “The spinster who thinks you are?” Logan asked, finally returning from the bar with three drinks in hand like the angel of alcohol he always designated himself to be. “The bride.” both of the Harris sisters answered in unison and Logan rolled his eyes too, he’d been to enough family functions in the three years he’d been with Harper to know exactly what Sophie was like. “Well, here’s to her living the rest of her life with the jealousy that her spinster cousin was proposed to first - and on national television - while she doesn’t even have photos of hers.” Hunter smirked and Harper’s jaw dropped as they clinked glasses. “I’m sorry, that sounded borderline villainous.” Harper batted her fake eyelashes for dramatic effect, “I’ve never been prouder.” “Fuck off.” Hunter muttered, shaking her head as she took a long pull of her champagne. She let her gaze sweep the room, taking in the venue and the guest list and not at all searching for a 6’1 mop of curls. “Looking for someone?” Harper smirked from behind the rim of her own glass and Hunter shook her head, controlling her expression. “Wondering what the over/under on Love Story being their first dance song is based on the distinctly Shakespeare vibe I’m getting from the hall.” She mused, kissing her teeth and Logan chuckled. These were the games they always played, making wagers on the mundane details of the events they went to as a trio: first dance songs at weddings, ice sculpture shapes at corporate fundraisers, biggest earners at charity auctions, surprise guests at concerts. You name it, they had a bet on it. “I’m going to go with…one of the Perfect by Ed Sheeran remixes, the more obnoxious the better.” “Oh, I am getting Perfect Symphony vibes.” Hunter grinned as they both turned to Harper who glanced around, nodding as she considered it. “Very likely, but Sophie is nothing if not basic at heart and we’ve been to enough weddings this summer to know what song absolutely every single one of them used.” “Speechless.” all three of them concluded in unison before laughing. “So, you sure Love Story is your final answer?” Harper smirked and Hunter scrunched up her nose. “I’m going to stick with Taylor Swift, but something a little more recent. I’m going to lock in Lover. Final answer.” They agreed the losers would have to run interference so the winner wouldn’t have to speak to Sophie for the rest of the night and Hunter left them to find her seat at Table Seven. The wedding was smaller than Hunter would’ve expected from their attention speaking cousin. The hall was long and narrow, lined on one side with tall arching windows and the other with stone arches that spilled out in a long hallway. There was a rectangular table at one end with what looked like thrones for two set at the head and enough seats for their army of a bridal party. The guests tables lined the room in a U shape, leaving room for a small dance floor in the middle. Table Seven was mercifully tucked into the furtherest corner of the room, right beside the arch closest to the exit. She wouldn’t even have to take the long walk of shame down the open hallway when she inevitably cut out early. Being the first person to the table, Hunter did half a lap, scanning the names scrawled in gold cursive on marble tile coasters that served as place card and party favour both. Matthew, Taylor, Simon, Nina, Hector, Hunter. She sank into her seat with a sigh, setting down her champagne coupe on the coaster as she resisted the urge to dig out her phone. She’d been good about not obsessively checking her email for this long, she could make it a few more hours. Well this is getting good now, Matthew smirked to himself, slowing his stride on the approach to his table as he finally spotted the woman in red. Amazingly - impossibly - she was already sitting there, all alone at their table like the perfect wedding favour. With her chin perched in the palm of her hand, she was glancing up at the balcony, away from the party until suddenly her eyes were on him. Hunter’s stomach rolled, rioting as she realized she recognized the blue eyes she’d felt on her. This…this was going to be trouble.
