Beware the parent who craves a child in order to mend a broken heart.
They often come with the best of intentions, as this one does, with his once rose-red hair turned gray and his sagging flesh and hump in his spine, a man once a boy, whose parents kept him in a tower and smothered him with love, hoarding him away, until it was too late to find love for himself.
“There wouldn’t be universal rejoicing if we got married,” Florizella said sharply. “Because one person, at least, wouldn’t be rejoicing, and that would be me. You know very well that I don’t want to get married yet. You know very well that we agreed to be friends. And if you want to be friends with me then you have to see that I am not the sort of princess who is going to get caught by a dragon and wait to be rescued!”