The Source of Mercy (Portia - tMoV)

All my life I’ve wanted more than this; there’s only so far that a bird can stretch her wings in a gilded cage. I’ve always been clever, almost more than was good for me. My Lord Father used to laugh at my antics and, with a twinkle in his eyes, say that I should have been born a boy. I had hoped that it would be my fortune to be sent away for school, but it was my Lady Mother’s dying wish that I would be educated as she had been, an education fitting to my station and my sex. And, as she wished, I obeyed.

Nerissa has been my constant companion since I was but a child, as her father was advisor to mine. At least, he was until he was discovered to be a traitor to my father and his household. I was sitting at the window the day he was led away to the gallows, and had to be enticed away from the scene with promise of a debate of politics and a game of disguise. My Lord Father later explained to me what had happened, in language mild enough for a child, of course, and that only served to confuse me more. The man was the father of my playmate, and my father’s friend. How could such a fate be enforced upon him? My father could not supply me with a satisfactory answer, and I still mourn the opportunity for mercy that was lost that day.

As I grew older, the male sex began to turn my eye with increasing occasion. Although it was rare, as I was only attracted to men of sound mind and stout heart, the development did not escape the e’er-observant eye of my Lord Father. And I believe it was the appearance of the Venetian Bassanio, from whom I enjoyed especial favour, who began to turn the cogs and gears of my father’s mind, whether for good or bad I cannot say, in effort to protect my prospects.  

Alas, life’s but a walking shadow, and it was not long after that my Father took to his chambers for the last time. It was on his deathbed that he made the official decree, and my future was locked within one of three chests. I could not be angry at a dead man, but I was bitter that I had lost the little freedom afforded me. If I was to be shackled to an idiot of a man through the actions of a man I knew to love me, I cannot say that I would not have actively sought the Eternal Sleep despite the ever-present threat of Eternal Damnation. But, my Lord Father was a wise and holy man who had always known the best for me before. So, as he wished, I obeyed.

The trust I placed in my dear departed Father only grew as scores of unworthy suitors came and went, as did my ill perception of the pool of eligible bachelors in Italy. At my Lord Father’s passing I myself did not know the identity of the casket that contained my likeness, but as men came and went and the box of lead remained unopened, I remained unbound to any man and was thus able to deduce the sacristy of my fate.

It was only at night, alone in my chambers, that I allowed myself to worry; after all, the people must not witness their master’s distress: a ruler, even one of a small household, must remain in a position of control at all times.

Even if sometimes it is no more than a mask put on in front of an audience.

It’s not deception, I am sure. I find that a false face oftentimes becomes an honest one. So I must continue to play the part I am assigned, with all my wits fully about me. And no matter what the outcome, mercy falls abundantly on those who are willing to receive it. On this I am dependent; in this I place my trust.