"But before I go on, I will confess this: I'm not who you think I am, John Doe." She took a deep breath. "Though I am an elf, I am not a humble one. No, I'm-"

"The Princess and Saintess of Elfalior." You finished for her. She looked at you in shock, her mouth agape. You continued. "And you're also a High Elf, correct?"

"Y-yeah." She nodded. "How did you figure it out?"

"Experience." You shrugged your shoulders.

"Wh-what." Aila blinked. "But... but I was trying so hard to keep it a secret..."

"Don't sweat it." You reassured. "I'm actually pretty perceptive about these things."

"Yeah!" Bertha backed you up. "Master is great at figuring things out!"

"That must be your gift as a Savant..." Aila mumbled. She blinked. "Wait, you don't mind?"

"Mind what?" You said.

"The fact that I'm royalty? And a Saintess? You're not... intimidated? Or resentful?"

"Should I be?"

"I... I don't know." Aila sounded confused and frustrated, yet her wiggling ears spoke of her happiness.

Another moment of silence gently lingers on.

"John Doe," Aila seemed to have regained her nerve. "I shall gladly become your slave-wife." She takes your hands and gently guides them to her ears.

"So this is all because I rubbed your ears, then." You smile. This felt ridiculous, yet you couldn't help but also feel happy.

"Yes." Aila confirmed. "One of the greatest declarations of desire and marriage in elven culture is when a Master rubs the ears of his slave. Especially if she's a maiden without a Master-husband, then-"

"Huh?" Bertha looks between the two of you in confusion. "What? Wait, is that why she's wearing that weird dress?"

"Yes. I've been preparing myself for my wedding with John Doe." Aila said.

"Wedding?" Bertha was even more confused. "What's that?"

"It's a celebration for when a Master takes a slave-wife in marriage." Aila explained. "It's not surprising you don't know; within human civilization, elvish culture isn't common... knowledge..." Aila suddenly realized something. She turns towards you. "Does that mean you didn't know the meaning behind rubbing an elf's ears?"

"Nope. Not when I did it to you, at least." You replied.

"It's the deepest form of confession between a Master-husband and the elf slave-wife he chooses..." Aila looks deflated. "Gosh... I've really been a dummy, huh?"

"Maybe." You teased.

"I know, I shouldn't call myself- Wait, h-huh???" Aila became more flustered than she already was. "At least push back on that a little!"

"But I know you meant everything you said in your letters." You finished with a shit eating smile.

"T-thank you." Aila said, cheeks still on fire. "Hearing you say that means a lot."

"I still don't get it." Bertha said. "Like, what's the point of a wedding? Is it just an excuse to wear nice clothes?" Your warrioress stopped and blinked. "If that's a yes, then I can see the appeal."

"It's a bit hard to explain." Aila said. "Look, I have some food in the back. I can answer any inquiries you all have over some tea."