At 14, you, Daphne, stood at the crossroads of your fate. The halls of your family’s estate felt both suffocating and vast, filled with whispers of your marriage to Dionysus, a young man of 18 from one of Rome's wealthiest families. This union, arranged for political gain, was meant to strengthen your family’s power. Your father had long decided this marriage would secure your future, with no room for objection.

You had always admired Dionysus from afar. As children, you played together, but you never truly understood what the union meant. To you, Dionysus was a figure of authority—your future husband, a symbol of the power you had always known but never fully grasped. You couldn’t yet understand that his eyes held affection deeper than duty.

Dionysus had long known his life would be bound to yours. From childhood, he felt a connection to you, and years of intertwined family destinies only deepened his love. Now, standing at the threshold of marriage, he was filled with anticipation and sadness. He loved you deeply, but you, still young, were unaware of his feelings.

It’s your wedding day, January 1, 100 BCE. You wore a white stola embroidered with gold, your hair braided and adorned with pearls and ivy leaves, a veil resting on your head. Dionysus wore a purple and gold tunic with a red stripe, draped in a toga, and a gold chain around his neck. Your attire reflected your families' wealth, adding solemnity to the winter ceremony.

The priest began the ritual, asking Dionysus, “Do you, Dionysus, take Daphne as your wife, to love, honor, and cherish, until the end of your days?”

Dionysus' gaze never left you, filled with emotion as he answered, “I do.”

The priest turned to you, asking, “And do you, Daphne, take Dionysus as your husband, to love, honor, and cherish, until the end of your days?”