Daemon and Aelinor had arrived in Pentos under the soft glow of the settling sun, the city's golden hues casting a warm light over the bustling harbor. The salty tang mixed with the exotic spices wafting from the nearby stalls, a stark contrast to the cold austerity of the Sept she had left behind.

Aelinor hesitated as the ship's plank swayed beneath her, her foot hovering just above the ground. She looked out at the unfamiliar world before her, feeling both exhilarated and terrified. 

The vibrant chaos of Pentos-- the laughing merchants, the clinking of coins, the scent of roasted meat mingling with perfume of foreign flowers-- overwhelmed her senses.

Daemon had waited for her at the dock, as the two had come separately, his posture was relaxed. When she had arrived he had helped her step off the boat, he had a small, knowing smirk curling on his lips. 

He had anticipated her hesitation, planned for it even. This moment, her first step into life unbound, was something he had orchestrated with more care than he could admit.

As her foot touched the solid ground, a rush of something she couldn't quite name coursed through her-- freedom, fear, excitement, all tangled in a chaotic swirl. She looked up at Daemon, her eyes searching for him as if seeking reassurance that hadn't made a terrible mistake.

"You're not going to break, you know," he said in a teasing tone, yet somehow reassuring. "The ground won't swallow you whole just because you left the Sept."

Aelinor's blue eyes shot him a look, her expression of a mix of nerves and defiance. "It's not the ground I'm worried about," She murmured. There was much more other stuff she was worried about... like her father founding her.

Daemon chuckled, the sound low and rich, and extended his hand to her. "Come on, Aelinor. Pentos waits for no one. Least of all for someone afraid to take a step."

She took a bigger step forward, to the dock, as she hit the stone steps as the guards greeted the two of them. Daemon's smirk softened as he watched her. "There," he said, his voice low and almost reverent. "You've done it. Welcome to the world, Aelinor. It's messy, unpredictable and utterly intoxicating. Just like you..."

Her cheeks flushed his comment, but she didn't look away. For the first time in years, she felt as if she was standing on the edge of something vast and unknown- and for once... it didn't frighten her.

He placed her hand on the small of her back, guiding her forward into the heart of Pentos. "I've made arrangements," he said, his tone returning to his usual cocky self. "A place where we won't be disturbed. You'll have time to think, breathe, and do whatever you want,"

Her eyebrow raised, as she glanced at him, "And what about you? Who are you in this world?"

The prince grinned at her, "Oh I'm whoever I need to be. But here, with you? I'm just a man enjoying the company of the woman I love, who's finally learning to live."

As his grip tightened around her waist, they wove through the lively streets, Aelinor found himself clutching his arm a little tighter, her steps growing steadier with every passing moment. For the first time... she wasn't sure what lay ahead of her.

Daemon had escorted his soon-to-be wife to a grand manse nestled just beyond the walls, a temporary refuge arranged by a Pentoshi maister eager to keep the Rogue Prince in his favor. T

his estate was a vision of luxury, with sprawling gardens filled with fragrant blossoms and fountains that shimmered under the moonlight. Its high walls offered both privacy and protection, a sanctuary away from the chaos of the city.

Aelinor walked beside Daemon, her steps slow as she took in the splendor surrounding them. The scent of the orange blossoms hung heavy in the air mingling the faint murmur of the distant waves crashing against the shore. Yet her mind wasn't on the beauty of the place--it was on the man beside her.

She turned her gaze to Daemon, her expression a mixture of curiosity and caution. "You've planned all of this...?" She asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper, as though speaking louder would break the fragile peace of night. "How long have you been thinking about this moment?"

Daemon looked down at her, a smirk appearing across his face, his silver hair catching the faint light of the lanterns lining the path. "Long enough," he replied, his tone casual, though his eyes betrayed the intensity of his thoughts. "Long enough to know that you don't belong in that Sept, cloistered away from the world. You were meant for more than that."

Aelinor's breath hitched at his words. She wanted to believe him, to let herself be swept away by the promise of something greater. But doubt lingered at the edges of her mind, a whisper of all she had left her behind. "And what if I'm not?" she asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "What if this... this life you're offering isn't meant for me either?"

Daemon stopped abruptly, turning to face her. His face turned stern immediately, he reached out his hands gripping her shoulders firmly but not unkindly. 

His gaze locked onto hers, his violet eyes smoldering with intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. "Aelinor," he said, his voice low and deliberate, "you've been living a lie. Everything they told you, everything they made you believe about who are--it's all been to serve their purposes, not yours,"

She blinked, caught off guard by the raw honesty in the tone. She had never expected Daemon to be the one to humble her, "But I-"

"No," he interrupted, his grip tightening slightly as if to ground her. "You don't owe them anything. Not your father, not the Sept, not anyone who ever told you that you were meant for a life of servitude. You owe yourself the chance to live, to want to be."

His words struck something deep within her, unraveling the tightly wound strings of guilt and obligations that kept her bound for so long. She swallowed hard, her throat dry as she searched his face for something-- reassurance, conviction, anything to anchor her to this path that she was walking on.

"And you?" she finally asked, her voice barely audible. "What do you owe yourself Daemon? Why are you doing this?"

Daemon's expression softened, a rare moment of vulnerability breaking through his unusual boldness. His hands slid from her shoulders to her waist, drawing her closer, "Because I see you," he said simply, "And because, you came to me asking for help, and perhaps, in seeing you, I've found something worth fighting for."

Aelinor's eyes softened as she looked at him... her heart pounded at his words, her doubts wavering under the weight of his sincerity. 

She didn't know if she could fully trust him, if this new life he was offering would bring her the freedom she craved. Daemon looked down at the vulnerable girl, as he leaned down and he kissed her.

She held his cheeks, as she kissed him back, her lips gently matching his as they shared their loving moment. Daemon pulled back as he looked at her blue eyes, "I love you, and I care about you, this is why I'm doing this for you. We were always suppose to be each others, we just never had the chance, but this your chance, my Aelinor,"

Aelinor nodded slowly, her breath catching as she leaned her forehead against his. Her pedimental hood framed her face, the faint glow of the lanterns illuminating her soft features. She looked up at him through her lashes, her eyes shimmering with a mixture of vulnerability and longing.

"You promised me this... years ago, in that Throne Room," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, thick emotion. "You remembered."

Daemon's lips curled into a faint smile, his hands moving to cup her cheeks, his thumbs brushing gently against her skin. His violet eyes softened as he gazed at her, the mischievous arrogance that usually defined him giving way to something deeper, something unspoken.

"I always remember," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, each word carrying the weight of an unbreakable promise. "Every word, every moment. How could I forget the one thing I've wanted for so long?"

Aelinor closed her eyes as she melted in his touch, she let his words sink as his warmth of his touch ground her. She felt a steady beat of his heart as their breaths mingled, the space between them charged with unspoken anticipation.

"And I cannot wait," Daemon continued, his tone shifting to something almost reverent, "until the day you stand at my side as my wife. Until you bear my children, filling our halls with laughter and the life we've both denied for far too long."

Her eyes opened at his words, wide with both surprise and a flicker of fear. "Daemon," she began hesitantly once more, "You speak of a future so grand, so full, do you think that the gods would let it happen?"

The prince smiled, the corners of his mouth curving in a way that was both tender and confident. "I don't just believe it, Aelinor. I know it." The gods have never let me have anything worth keeping without a fight, but if I have to fight for you, for us, then so be it."

Aelinor lips parted but no words came. Instead, she leaned into his touch, letting herself feel the weight of his promise, the depth of his conviction. For so long, she had been denied choice, denied a voice. But here, with him she felt the stirrings of a freedom she only dreamed of.

"Come, I have our wedding preparations, if you are willing to do it tonight," He whispered as he tilted her chin upwards, his eyes searching her for acceptance.

Her heart raced, the gravity of his words pulling at every part of her. She exhaled shakily, her voice steady, but quiet as she answered, "I'm ready, I just want to be yours,"

His smirk returned, laced with satisfaction, as he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, sealing the promise they had carried in their heart for years. He escorted her towards the quiet splendor of the Pentoshi manse, as he escorted her towards her private chambers.

Daemon's expression softened as he looked at her, a rare tenderness breaking through his usual confidence. "I thought about having a Valyrian wedding," he began, his voice carrying the weight of his heritage. 

"But I didn't want to overwhelm you...or even scare you," His lips quirked into a faint smirk. "So instead, I've planned something simpler--- a private, small ceremony. Just us, away from prying eyes and wagging tongues."

Aelinor's heart fluttered at his words, she could hear the care in his tone, the way he had considered her feelings. She nodded at her gaze holding him to show her gratitude without words.

Daemon gestured towards the door flick of his hand, and then pushed it open with a flourish. Inside the room, lit softly by flickering candles, stood a gown displayed on the delicate frame. 

The fabric shimmered in the light, a rich blend of silken whites and light blues that seemed to glow with almost ethereal quality.

The girl who once had nothing, gasped softly, her hand instinctively raised to his chest. "Is this... for me?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

The prince's smirk widened into a genuine smile, one of those rare moments when his guard seemed to slip entirely. "Of course it is," he said, his tone almost teasing. "Did you think I'd leave you in your Septa robes for such an occasion? You'll look every bit the queen you are to me."

Her cheeks flushed, a warmth spreading through chest. She stepped closer to the gown, her fingers brushing over the delicate fabric, afraid to touch it and somehow ruin its perfection.

"There are ladies waiting for you," Daemon continued, stepping behind her. His voice dropped to a softer register as he spoke near her ear. "They'll help you dress, fix your hair. I've also brought a Septon here, one willing to oversee the ceremony tonight. It won't be the grand spectacle some might expect but it will be ours. Just ours."

She gave a small nod, unable to form the words to express the overwhelming emotion in her chest. With one last lingering look, Daemon inclined his head towards the room. "Go," he urged gently. "Let me prepare you. I'll be waiting."

Aelinor nodded quietly as she stepped into the chambers, her eyes widening as she took in her surroundings. The room was grander than anything she had ever been given at the Sept. 

The high ceilings were adorned with intricate carvings, and soft tapestries draped the walls, casting the space in warmth and elegance. A plush rug muffled her hesitant footsteps as she moved further inside, her gaze down to the glided mirror and the faint scent of lavender wafting through the air.

She paused in the center of the room, turning slowly as her fingers brushed the fine fabric on her gown. Her heart raced at the thought of the evening ahead. 

From a small adjoining chamber, a group of ladies emerged, their dresses simple, yet refined their signaling their purpose. They move gracefully towards their synchronized steps. Aelinor's lips parted in surprise as she watched them, her fingers clutching the fabric of the gown nervously.

"Hello," she said softly, her voice carrying a mixture of shyness and curiosity.

The women curtsied in unison, their heads bowing in respect. One of the older ladies, her hair streaked with silver and demeanor calm and professional, stepped forward. "Lady Aelinor," she said, her voice kind yet formal. "We are here to prepare for you this special evening."

Aelinor blinked, her nerves settling slightly at the older woman's warm tone, she had reminded her a lot of her late mother. "Thank you," she replied, though her voice wavered slightly.

The older woman gestured toward the chair by the vanity , a soft smile on her face. "Please, my lady, take a seat. We'll begin with your hair."

Aelinor hesitated for only a moment before nodding and moving to the chair. As she settled into it, her fingers brushed the cool wood of the armrests. She watched in the mirror as the women moved around her with practiced ease.

One began unfastening the pins from her hair, taking the pediment hood of her hair. This revealed her auburn locks cascading down her back. 

Another carefully brushed through the strands, her movements rhythmic and soothing. "Your hair is very beautiful, my lady," the younger attendant murmured, earning a faint blush from Aelinor.

The older woman returned with a silver circle adorned with small pearls and dragon motifs, a subtle nod to Daemon's heritage. "My name is Lady Lyssa," she introduced herself, as she revealed the headpiece that the Prince chose himself. "Prince Daemon chose this himself," she said with a smile. "It will complement your gown perfectly."

Aelinor's eyes softened as she reached out to touch the delicate piece. "He thought of everything," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

As the women continued their work, one laced her gown with care, ensuring it fit her like a second skin. Another applied a subtle touch of color to her cheeks and lips enhancing her natural beauty without overwhelming her.

When they stepped back, Aelinor barely recognized herself in the mirror. She looked radiant, a blend of elegance and strength that reflected the journey she had undertaken to reach this moment.

Lyssa stepped forward, her hands resting gently on Aelinor's shoulders, like a mother figure. "You look stunning, my lady," she said softly. "He will be proud."

Aelinor met Lyssa's gaze in the mirror and nodded, her confidence growing with every passing moment. "Thank you," she said, her voice steadier now.

The doors to the chambers opened, and the soft murmur of the evening outside filtered in. Aelinor stood, her hands smoothing the fabric of her gown as she prepared to step into the next chapter of her life.

The attendants bowed as she walked through the door, then slowly followed behind her as they helped with the train of her dress. With a deep breath Aelinor stepped forward, ready to meet Daemon and the future that awaited for her.

The room that Aelinor walked into was a small quiet sanctuary. The Candlelight bathed the space in a warm glow, casting dancing shadows on the walls. 

Aelinor's gown flowed like liquid silver, the intricate embroidery catching the flicker of the flames. Her auburn hair let loose with a crescent style hood with dragon details, a subtle nod to the House she was marrying into.

Daemon stood waiting at the far end of the room, dressed in the black and crimson, his silver hair catching the candlelight. His eyes followed her every step as she entered, and for a brief moment, the Rogue Prince looked awestruck.

Aelinor's breath hitched as she reached him, their gazes locking. The Septon stood between them, his voice steady as he began the ceremony.

"Before the Seven, I unite this man and this woman in holy matrimony," The Septon intoned. "In the sight of the Father, the Mother, the Warrior, and the Maiden, we bind their lives together."

Lady Lyssa and the other girls were all watching in amazement seeing this beautiful wedding alongside their hard work done before them.

Daemon reached out, taking her hands in his. His grip was firm but gentle, grounding her in the moment.

"Aelinor Hightower," he said, his voice low and steady, "I pledge to you my loyalty, my strength, and my heart. No matter where we go, no matter what challenges we face, you will have me by your side. Always."

A small smile appeared on her face as her lips trembled as she replied, her voice soft but unwavering. "Daemon Targaryen, I vow to stand with you, to share in your triumphs and your burdens. I give you my trust, my love, and my heart, now and forever."

The Septon nodded, his hands raised in blessing. "By the power of the Seven, I pronounce with you husband and wife. May your union be blessed and your lives be fruitful,"

This wasn't a traditional wedding, as they hadn't shared the cloaks of the house. She didn't care anymore, she was his wife now. Daemon didn't wait for permission. He leaned in, his hands cradling her face and kissed her deeply, the room disappearing as they consumed by the moment. 

Aelinor melted into him, her arms wrapping around his neck as if to anchor herself to him forever. When they finally parted, the faint cheers of the attendants echoed softly in the background, but for Aelinor, there was only Daemon. 

His smirk returned as he whispered, "You're mine now, officially my wife," 

She smiled, her cheeks flushed. "And you're mine, husband." Hand in hand they stepped into the night, their future as uncertain as the stars above-- but for the first time, Aelinor felt truly alive.