Archive of Our Own

Dear Percy,

If you’re reading this, then I didn’t marry him. I could have been a princess, but he’s not you. Not that it should surprise you because you should have had faith in me this entire time, pining after me from afar, knowing that despite that I left you, that I would do this in the end. You should have known…yet you couldn’t have because I didn’t even have faith in myself.

I don’t know if you pined for me, but I hope you did. I know that’s awful, but we already know that I’m awful sort of girl. Pug-faced, bitchy, snappish, cruel—this is who I am and I hope that you still love all these terrible parts of me. I hope you still love that I’m ambitious, ruthless, and selfish. I am so selfish, Percy. You must know this. You must. There’s no one as brilliant as you, but I hope more than anything that you are stupid enough to still love me.

I won’t lie to you—I was intimate with him. Despite that it was an arranged marriage, Nikolai and I were together for two-years. I tried to forget about you, so I wandered into his bed. He was not you. I only remembered you more when he fucked me. I only wanted you more when he fucked me. It was clinical at best, and I longed for you.

I desperately wished I could run my fingers through your bloody ugly ginger hair. I yearned to map the freckles on your skin to explore all your pleasure. Late at night, if I curled on my side, I pretended you were behind me, our bare legs touching.

I missed you.

I miss you, as in now, I still actively miss you. I want you, as I now, I still actively want you. And, of course, I still love you. I have not stopped loving you and that makes the worst kind of woman. I left my heart with you so that I could marry a man with money and power, but privilege is such a useless thing. I see that now. There is no order in privilege, only assumptions with no pride to call your own. It is handed to you on a silver platter and I am tired of silver spoons. What I wouldn’t give to eat some takeaway with you again as we grin around cheap plastic forks on a public park bench.

I know that I should have opened this letter with an apology, but it doesn’t matter if I apologize now. I know you won’t come back to me. You can’t have read this far. I know that deep in my bones that this letter will remain unopened on the table, if not burned. But yet, I am sorry. I am so sorry. I don’t dare ask for forgiveness because I will never receive it. Percy, despite that I love you, I want you to hate me. You should hate me. I want you to despise me because I deserve it. I ruined us. I chose another man over you, and it was not even worth it.

But here, in these paragraphs, I am going to beg now. I am going beg now because I have nothing left—Father and Mother have disowned me. I have been cast out from my social circles again and I am more than alone. I am desperate. So, in this desperation, please, Percy, please—do not make me spend life alone when you’re in the world.

I love you. I am sorry. I am not worthy of you, but I love you still. I love the way you drink both bitter tea and coffee, but constantly crave a piece mint afterwards. I love the way you push your glasses up at the corner of your frames. I love the maddening fast pace you walk where I have to constantly remind you to slow down. I love just you—as you are. Your temper when your patience wears thin, the sneer you wear when you’re displeased, the coldness in your voice when you’re angry, the way can’t help but micromanage your employees. I want to swallow all the darkness so that you can only be of light.

You are my light. You are so good and kind. You’re the best brother out of all your siblings. You’re resourceful, careful, cunning, and bright. You put your whole heart into everything. You do not accept failure despite that failure has already won. Despite all my shortcomings, you still called me yours—held my hand like I was someone precious, kept me close as if I was a treasure.

Can I still be yours, Percy? I don’t think I ever stopped. Perhaps in name, but my soul knew better than I did. I will pay penance every day for my cruelty and foolishness. Please, please, please, my love—give me another chance.

I beg you for a moment of mercy. If you come to me, you have all my loyalty. Even if you don’t, I will never be with another. I will wait for you until my dying breath—this I swear to you.

With all my love,

Yours,

Pansy