Meet the Characters - Adela

There's always that one character you would absolutely love to see get their comeuppance, and you make sure to keep plenty of popcorn on hand when it finally comes. 

(All images, outside personal artwork, property of their respective owners.) 

Some of my characters first came about because I specifically aimed to take them down quite a few pegs. I sort of get to do to them what I itch to do with other characters (which other people have already invented) that I can't stand. It's both great fun and wonderful catharsis. 

However, I also try to be nice and give them at least a few redeeming qualities, so you don't have to keep that huge sledgehammer handy every time you see them. 

Sometimes, if I'm feeling extra generous, they end up turning over a completely new leaf. After all, few things in a story are more important (and more powerful) than character development, and if there's one thing I love, it's a character who changes for the better. 

So, today, the spotlight shall shine upon Adela Buchanan Wiles. 

The idea for Adela came from quite a few characters, but I'd say the character who had the most influence was Daisy Buchanan from F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby. I once read it in college and wrote a 10-page essay, which my professor (who wasn't one to give praise lightly, I'm told) called one of the best-written essays he had ever read. 

For someone who hopes to become a writer for real, such compliments go a very long way.

If you ever read Fitzgerald's book or watched any of the film adaptations, you should know very well what this character is like. 

This is why I borrowed the surname "Buchanan," and with Lady Adela, I get the thrill of taking matters into my own hands. No way on Earth is this spoiled rich girl getting off scot-free.

In a nutshell, I use Adela as an example of what happens when you're pampered too much, disciplined too little, and take no consideration for other people's feelings. You may believe you're "untouchable" due to your pretty face, fancy title, fabulous wealth, friends in high places, or all of the above...but the truth is, you're as human as everybody else and there are some things no amount of money can buy. 

There's also a world of difference between true love and shallow infatuation. Like the saying goes, true love is when you care about the other person more than yourself; if you care about yourself more than the other person, that's just plain unhealthy obsession, which can land you in serious trouble if you're not careful. 

Besides Daisy Buchanan, you could call Adela the female version of Narcissus, and Gaston from Disney's Beauty and the Beast. She shares a great deal in common with Scarlett O'Hara and Veruca Salt, too. 

By now, you can make a pretty fair assumption that Adela is pretty narcissistic. 

There's no denying she's beautiful, rich, and powerful. She is royalty, after all, and her parents, Pert and Ivy Buchanan, have certainly spared no extravagance on her from the day she was born. 

While they only share so much of the blame, you can't very well let King Pert or Queen Ivy off the hook, either. Even they're forced to see in the end what's become of their little darling and neither of them like what they see. 

There was nothing wrong with wanting to give their daughter a good life by any means. Even so, they wound up teaching her that she could have anything her heart desired, no matter the cost, that she could treat anybody however she pleased with no repercussions. 

She developed a particularly nasty attitude about the people beneath her, most of all the peasants. In her view, peasants are almost not human. 

Kyla Deryn, who was the best friend of Prince Romulus Lactantius, became Adela's number one target. Not only did Adela hold Kyla's "farm girl" origins against her like an indelible curse, treating the poor girl like she wasn't worthy of royalty even as a friend, but she harbored a rather lustful eye for Prince Romulus and would do anything (literally anything) to get him for herself. 

Adela and Romulus are sort of the "gender swap" of Gaston and Belle from Beauty and the Beast. Adela wants Romulus and his brother Tallis the way Gaston wants Belle (more for their good looks, wealth, and overall "perfection" than anything else) and she won't take "no" for an answer any more than he will. 

What Gaston says concerning Belle can come out of Adela's mouth concerning Romulus and Tallis every bit as easily: "That makes them the best, and don't I deserve the best?" 

Even Gaston's (slightly modified) lyrics would fit Adela to an absolute tee:

"Right from the moment when I met him, saw him,
I said he's gorgeous, and I fell!
Here, in town, there's only he
Who is beautiful as me
So, prepare, my friends, to hear those wedding bells!"

Tallis is six years younger than Romulus, and Adela is two years younger than Romulus. So, the age difference isn't drastic, but it proves beyond a doubt how desperate Her High-and-Mightiness is (if not downright crazy) when she goes after both men, only to have them both refuse her. Given how chivalrous Romulus and Tallis are most of the time (courtesy toward women was at least one valuable lesson their father taught them), it takes exceptional talent to make them turn a woman down flat with the same fervor. 

Somehow, Adela couldn't get it through her thick little skull why this handsome pair kept refusing her. Was she not beautiful enough, rich enough? 

Was her blood not blue enough? 

Was she not so much better than Kyla, the "lowly clodhopper," in every capacity imaginable? 

Was it not her God-given right to become the wife of a beloved Lactantius and Daire's even more beloved Queen, to have her already insane ego increased a thousandfold? 

"Tallis?"

"Yeah, Romulus?"

"I don't think Adela's ego can get much bigger!" 

"Nonsense!" (pulls out bicycle pump)

In all fairness, Adela wasn't the only person who placed the Lactantiuses on such a lofty pedestal. 

Almost everybody, inside and outside Daire, was all but worshiping Terence Silvermane Lactantius and his offspring; the public's praise would have made Terence himself more than a little uncomfortable. Old Beowulf, who lived in Terence's day (and long before that) and served him well for many years, to the point where he obtained the title "The King's Hound," recognizes this rather toxic hero worship and is almost glad that he, himself, is a virtual outcast. 

People today don't revile Beowulf quite as much as the people in the old days did. Some even respect the grizzled boy for real, but no one is particularly eager to be pals with him. Most of them just learn to keep out of his way and avoid trouble. 

While Beowulf won't lie about the sting of ostracism, he also knows the high praises of Terence have become a little too high these days. Sure, Terence was great by all means, something Beowulf will claim in a heartbeat; it's because of Terence that Beowulf himself was rescued from the black abyss. Terence rekindled Beowulf's belief in the goodness of the world, gave him hope he never expected to find again, helped him remember what was truly worth fighting for.

It's a safe bet that, had Terence not come along, Beowulf would have ultimately succumbed to the Then Let Me Be Evil mindset and become a total villain. Even now, Beowulf doesn't expect for a moment to be forgiven for his innumerable sins...but Terence gave him something worthwhile to hold onto once more, hence the King's Hound's loyalty to the death, or to the end of the world, whichever comes first.

If they were in Harry Potter, it's like the platonic version of Severus Snape and Lily Evans Potter:

"Terence? After all this time?"

So, Miss Adela most definitely catches Beowulf's eye, and he finds the girl's behavior amusing, pathetic, and somewhat disturbing. 

Although she's far from the worst person he's seen yet ("far from the devil incarnate," in his own words), he knows only too well what sort of mischief people like her get into. The idea of her becoming Daire's Queen is enough to make his skin crawl.

Furthermore, I use Adela to debunk that outrageous double standard about women harassing men. Society deems it wrong when a man harasses a woman, which is true enough, but somehow it's "okay" if a woman does it to a man. I once heard of a magazine article that actually encouraged girls to stalk boys, claiming boys find it "attractive" when girls throw themselves at them and blah, blah, blah.

I couldn't disagree more. 

Stalking is stalking, bullying is bullying, harassment is harassment, abuse is abuse, and it doesn't matter who does it to whom. It's wrong, end of story.

Suffice it to say that Adela's unsavory behavior ends up catching her parents' attention, and Pert and Ivy both feel compelled to do something about it. They reach the point where they can no longer make excuses or pretend that all is well; moreover, they're positively mortified that they let it get this bad in the first place. 

While both parents deserve some credit for finally getting their big heads out of their big butts and taking some long-overdue action, it only stands to reason that they'd be a bit clunky with the "discipline," that Adela wouldn't take it too well after being indulged to no end all her life. 

From the girl's perspective, it's almost as if her entire childhood has been one enormous illusion, that everything her parents ever told her was a lie. They told her she deserved the world on a shiny silver platter for years; now all of a sudden they tell her she not only can't have the whole world after all, but she shouldn't have it. 

She has no way to brace herself when the royal rug is jerked out from under her feet, with a most painful landing awaiting her. 

So, this is one of those things that make her somewhat more palatable. Despite wanting for nothing, despite building an altar to herself, the truth is the girl's got some major self-esteem issues, to say the least. You could say she acts like she's so important just to try to convince herself more than anybody else. 

She wants Romulus and/or Tallis to love her so that she can share in their glory. 

She sincerely hopes her fantasies, ludicrous as they may be, will somehow become reality if she believes hard enough. 

Without the Lactantiuses, without her own fancy title, what else has she got to live for? 

It's worth noting that Adela never had a true friend before, that any girls who hung out with her or any boys who noticed her would never have bothered under different circumstances.

She's got all the money she'll ever need...and it can't buy happiness. 

Way deep down, she sees the truth in all its lurid glory. She's not so stupid as she is hopelessly stubborn. Whenever someone asks her a pointed question, she pointedly dodges said question or gives a half-baked answer at best. She's silent but burning from head to toe when her own mother and father ask her to her face, "What happened to you?" 

So, she uses "the martyr card" as her coping mechanism. It's easier (or so she thinks) to pin the blame for her unhappiness on someone else. It's easier to blame her parents for not raising her better, as well as to blame Romulus and Tallis for rejecting her and not giving their so-called "love" a chance. 

It's an especially bitter pill for her to swallow when Romulus ends up marrying Kyla after all, whereas Tallis ends up settling down and sharing his throne with a well-to-do city girl named Ann Fain. Miss Buchanan openly deems both wedding days "the absolute worst" days of her life.

Soon enough, Adela had a wedding of her own, of her parents' design. She got hitched to Prince Marlon Wiles of Foyle, who was no slouch; he was rich and famous enough to have a little overinflated ego of his own. Marlon never liked Romulus or Tallis because they were always better than him without even trying, and the man harbored some not-so-subtle prejudice toward the fauns, centaurs, and unicorns that populated their kingdom; from his view, Daire might as well have been a big zoo or circus. 

When he and Adela were married, he had the nerve to gloat because he "finally" got something the Lactantiuses didn't have, as if Adela were some rare prize at a fair, despite neither Tallis nor Romulus harboring the slightest interest in said "prize." 

Trent himself once said neither of his sons would get his blessing for a marriage to Adela Buchanan "if she was the last girl alive," and Adela heard the man and knew he wasn't entirely joking. 

However, once Marlon got over that childish swagger, he found himself quickly falling in love with Adela for real, if you could call it "love." His own parents were never kind to him (they could be quite harsh) and he was far from Mr. Popular, mainly because he didn't know how to socialize the correct way and he saw "being nice" as beneath him. 

So, the man had about as warped a view of love as his wife did, and he held fast to whatever he could get his hands on. He, too, suffered from one doozy of an Inferiority Superiority Complex. 

Something about Marlon did catch Adela's eye, too. There were a few tender moments between them here and there, just enough to produce three children: a son named Mason, a daughter named Erica, and another son named Peter. There are five years between Mason and Erica, and six years between Erica and Peter. 

Unfortunately, whatever passion there might have been between this pretentious couple had the intensity and durability of a candle. Adela would be a little too quick to push Marlon aside afterward, almost as if she's shouting at herself, "What am I doing? This isn't the man of my dreams! I shouldn't be doing this! How can I possibly love him the way I love Romulus or Tallis?" 

As you can well imagine, Marlon doesn't take this too well. This really adds fuel to the fire of his already blazing hatred toward the Lactantiuses; even in marriage, he's still second best at best. There's no need for gloating now.

He also gets understandably frustrated with Adela for playing this "hot and cold" game, treating him like a toy on a string or a coat on a hook, only using him when she's in the mood and then putting him away when her fun is over. She's supposed to be his wife, his queen, and yet he knows for a fact, even when she doesn't say anything, that she expects to see Romulus or Tallis in his place every time she looks his way. 

For all that, he still stays with her, never once tempted to divorce her or so much as glance at another woman. Even Romulus is forced to admit it's tough to be a martyr in your own marriage, to love someone who gives little to no indication of loving you back. 

For all his jerkishness, Marlon most definitely warrants a good chunk of sympathy, much more than his wife does. 

That said, there can only be so much sympathy for Marlon and Adela. 

It's their children who deserve the most pity by far. 

All Mason, Erica, and Peter want their parents to do is love them, or at least look at them more often and not criticize them so much. Tragically, their mother can barely stay in the same room with them, because even if she never admits it out loud, they're sired by another man and therefore the "proof" of what she supposedly lost. 

When their father isn't giving them the ice-cold shoulder, he's very harsh on them, scolding them for the most innocent mistakes and (quite hypocritically) warning them in the most explicit terms not to do anything to embarrass him or jeopardize his "good standing." It was enough to catch his own parents' attention and make them ill at ease. 

Whenever Irene and Dominic Wiles told Marlon to "ease up" on his children, he could only respond with blistering sarcasm, "How the tables have turned." 

For further cruel irony, Dominic's own parents had been cruel to him, so Dominic was truly appalled and heartsick to see for himself just how well he'd followed in their footsteps, how he'd helped the vicious cycle make another round. His only remaining hope was to prevent a "three strikes and you're out" with his grandchildren. 

Pert and Ivy were every bit as crushed, if not more so. Alongside Dominic and Irene, it fell to them to raise Adela's children for her and teach them what they should have taught her years ago. While Dominic and Irene learned to be more understanding and gentle, Pert and Ivy learned to be much more grounded and firm while still being plenty affectionate. 

As a result, Mason, Erica, and Peter, in spite of their young age, knew better and behaved themselves vastly better than both parents put together.

If there's one song to summarize this dysfunctional royal family, I have to go with John Lennon's "Mother." It's not one of my favorite songs and the lyrics are pretty depressing, yet frighteningly accurate. 

It goes to show some people are better cut out for parenthood than others. Although I won't judge people for how many kids they choose to have (or not) or how they raise them, I will judge them for how well those kids are raised.  

All kids deserve attention and love, and every parent must learn to appreciate the children they've got as opposed to the children they believe they should get.

Adela may not have lain a finger on her sons or daughter, yet she hurts them in a way that makes onlookers ache plenty. Despite their dislike for her, Romulus and Kyla are almost sick with pity when they learn more about her children and they're only too glad to take the entire trio under their wings. 

Mason, despite being forced to grow up way too soon, acting more like a father to Erica and Peter than a brother, is glad when he reaches legal age because he doesn't need his parents' approval anymore, and he knows darn well his mother is her own worst enemy. 

He's as frustrated with her as anybody because she cheated him out of a proper parent, a proper childhood, and it's because of her that he doesn't have any friends. A few people are nice to him, or at least recognize him as a prince, but no one goes out of their way to be chummy. At least one person told him to his face, "It's not so much you as it is your mother. Sorry, mate, but she's too much of a nutcase for my comfort." 

And all this while, Adela still has the nerve to say, "I'm your mother, and therefore my word is gospel." 

It's like Lin getting angry with her mother Toph in The Legend of Korra: "You make me furious, and you don't even know why! And when I tell you, you don't care!"

If that wasn't enough, Adela once got the bright idea to play "matchmaker" upon realizing Romulus had a daughter just around Mason's age, even if she was Kyla's daughter, too. Here was another opportunity to become part of the Lactantius circle after all, albeit a much smaller one. 

Adela was bold enough to say straight out, "Half a loaf is better than none." 

When you try to hook your own child up with your unrequited crush's child, just so you can be happy, you're a very fine piece of work indeed.

At least this potential problem was nipped in the bud, with Mason being the most adamant in saying, "Oh, no, you don't!" 

Not one to easily lose his cool, Romulus was livid enough to get right in Adela's face as he all but threatened her to leave Tracy alone, and Adela knew he meant what he said. She should thank her lucky stars Kyla wasn't there; Kyla would have single-handedly torn her to pieces. 

Because Mason had nothing to do with this nutty scheme and was even more upset with his mother than Romulus was, Romulus had cause to pity the poor boy more than ever.

Tracy felt plenty awful on the Wiles prince's behalf, too. At least she had no problem with befriending him on a platonic level, which is all Mason ever asked. 

Years down the road, Mason and Tracy like each other enough to run up and hug, and their own kids refer to them as "Uncle Mason"and "Aunt Tracy." Even their spouses get along just fine.

Tracy also played a big part in Mason learning to love swimming and boxing. Mason had always enjoyed such sports well enough but never got much practice in his youth, so Tracy and her cousin Reid (who becomes Mason's dearest friend of all) helped to stoke those feeble sparks into a lively fire. Now Mason can actually beat them in the ring (and they don't need to hold back, either) and he gets even more soaked than they do. 

With swimming, he's permanently exempt from the fee for the Lactantiuses' indoor pool and outdoor lake, and they all take summer trips to the sunny shores of Cairbre where they can revel in the vast Green Sea, their all-time favorite swim spot. 

They give Mason his very own water mask (which they invented themselves) for keeps and often lend him one of their magic shells that let you breathe underwater indefinitely. It's like having a scuba tank that never runs out, so you can stay submerged for as long as you like and emerge just fine...but your eyes remain exposed, hence the need for the masks. Such shells were an extra special gift from the merfolk when Terence did them a tremendous favor (still working out the details of that little story) and the shells have been a priceless family heirloom ever since. They contain a great deal of sentimental value as well as monetary, so you can bet the Lactantiuses don't share them with just anybody.

Luckily for Mason, his true wife Cecily also adores the water, with Cairbre being her childhood home, though she's a bit more partial to sailing on top of it. That's all well and good, because she can serve as his lookout while he splashes about to his heart's content and she will join him every so often. 

From the way her family sees it, you can't very well be a good sailor without being a good swimmer as well, and skills that could very well save your life can never steer you wrong. Not that there's any fear of this happening, but Cecily could single-handedly rescue Mason in the worst case scenario. She could go after anybody who was on the verge of drowning and tow them to safety with little trouble.

So, once again, this underscores what kind of childhood Mason had, what kind of mother Adela was. 

He got loads more hugs and kisses from his grandmothers and he could speak to his grandfathers without fear of being brushed off, rebuked, or disparaged. He even got to have at least a little fun with his grandparents, going on a nice outing or two. I doubt I'll have the heart to write a story about his childhood in detail; that might be a little too depressing for me. 

Even after his grandparents pass away, his servants still treat him loads better than his parents do. His main counselor, Murdoch, who was never interested in children of his own, couldn't help but notice the young Wiles' loneliness and take pity on them. 

Their nurse and maid, Margaret, who utterly adored children despite having none, often embraced them, personally tended to them when ill or injured, and brought them nice things to eat just because; she even insisted on Peter and Erica calling her "Auntie Margaret," though she was fine with Mason just calling her "Margaret." She's also there to help Erica with that transition from girlhood to womanhood, basically doing all the things Adela should be doing with her daughter. 

Despite being in Adela's service, it's plain as day that Murdoch and Margaret, and just about all the other servants, only serve her out of duty. For that matter, no one in the Wiles' castle really bothers to hide their disdain for their Lady anymore. 

Rumor has it that Margaret is one of the precious few people who can talk back to Adela, Marlon, and Murdoch and get away with it, whereas Murdoch sums up Adela the way Grandpa Joe sums up Veruca Salt: 

Being invaluable allies to one another, Romulus and Tallis still put up with Adela for as long as they absolutely have to. Even Marlon is pragmatic enough (and self-serving enough) to maintain the alliance between Daire and Foyle; it's pretty much the only thing keeping the floor blood-free. 

Even so, Marlon sees no need to be "pally-dally" with them or their families (though Mason very much begs to differ) and Adela still makes it clear as crystal that she's never forgiven them for her humiliation, all but disregarding the fact that she humiliated them first and their only true crime was the audacity to tell her, "No."

Unfortunately, Adela can't play this pretending game forever, nor can she elude karma's clutches forever. Sooner or later, her comeuppance catches her and all too easily gains the upper hand.

I won't say what happens, but she does reach the point where she forfeits the title of Queen (she's actually booed off the throne), all three of her children decide they want nothing more to do with her and they give her the silent treatment, and she sees once and for all what everybody really thinks of her along with their sound justification for thinking that way. For all that she's dished out, she and Marlon are truly amazed at how nasty their own medicine tastes. 

Mason once asked his mother to her face, "Would you have loved me if Romulus or Tallis were my father instead?" 

To which she had no answer, and as usual, she was only too quick to change the awkward subject. 

Then she and Marlon found themselves frantic with worry when their children were in authentic life-threatening danger, but their concern makes the children feel more disgusted than reassured. "You never cared about me before, and it took me almost getting killed to finally get your attention." 

Now the children are the ones to stay as far away from their parents as possible, making the parents understand for the first time how it feels to be ignored. 

Adela played the victim for so long that she failed to see Mason, Erica, Peter, and even Marlon, among many others, were the real victims all along. 

For all his misery, Marlon had no right whatsoever to spread misery to others. 

But the last remnants of their pride and illusions were shattered once and for all when Mason first met Cecily. Cecily's parents, her father most of all, wanted absolutely nothing to do with the Wiles; the mere mention of the Wiles made the Byrnes fly into a fine passion faster than you could blink. In King Nero's own words, "The Wiles [and Buchanans] have been nothing but trouble. They're all the same. They're all trash." 

Nero not only never bothered to get Mason's side of the story, but he flat-out disowned his own daughter when she refused to leave Mason, when she made the rightful protest about the wrongness of "choosing sides." In the heat of the moment, Nero and Sabina told Cecily she could "rot" with Mason in Foyle if that's what she wanted, and Adela and Marlon watched in stunned silence from the shadows as the Byrnes stormed out (with Murdoch only too glad to show them the door) and Mason and Cecily both collapsed in tears. 

Mason was now truly broken in every possible way. 

After everything that had gone wrong, with his own kingdom in shambles, he had found a chance for true love at long last...but it came at the cost of everything for her. Only her sister and her younger brother cared enough to side with her and bawl their parents (and their big brother) out good and proper. Even though Cecily still stood by Mason of her own free will, he didn't see how she could possibly forgive him for this, let alone continue to love him. 

Seeing her son's broken heart, seeing him go through so much undeserved pain, cracked Adela like a nut. 

She now knew once and for all that she did love him, just the way he was, but such an epiphany had come far too late. 

She didn't see how he could ever forgive her or Marlon, and as far as they could tell, such a chance would never come again. 

Now they stopped trying to apologize to Mason, Erica, and Peter, stopped trying to make the kids talk to them again, and they stayed away from everybody else of their own volition. They kept entirely to themselves, prisoners in their own castle, alone with their shattered hearts and guilt-ridden consciences. 

(Images courtesy of Animation Screencaps.)

Sort of makes you reconsider how much you've been looking forward to their downfall, doesn't it? Well, the story doesn't end here. 

After ten long years of solitude, with Erica and Peter long gone (Erica marrying a sympathetic prince and joining him in his realm, Peter disappearing into the city for school) and with Mason and Cecily as Foyle's new, profoundly better King and Queen, and with their two little children kept at a healthy distance from their paternal grandparents, Adela is all but a shell of her former self.

Even her beauty is gone, because (spoiler) Beowulf slashes her face.

Before Cecily came along, just after Mason officially called it quits, the King's Hound paid Adela an unexpected visit. She couldn't get away from him and no one would have arrived in time to help even if they were inclined. Though Beowulf spared the woman's life, he told her with a terrible brandish of his long, razor-sharp claws, "Let's see what you've got left when you don't have a pretty face anymore."

Marlon was the sole witness to this, and he was truly horrified and heartbroken when Beowulf left Adela's face in a horrible bloody mess. All he could do afterward was wail for help while trying to stop the bleeding. 

Once the blood was washed away and the doctors were able to properly examine Adela's wounds, the wounds weren't as bad as they feared. She didn't need surgery or stitches, but she was left with dreadful permanent scars along the entire length of her cheek; she was lucky that Beowulf just missed her eye. You can imagine how she felt whenever she dared to look in the mirror from then on. The sight was enough to crush Marlon, and Mason was quite moved, too. Even Romulus and Tallis were truly stunned upon seeing those scars up close. 

Beowulf himself couldn't very well say he was proud of what he had done. 

In hindsight, Adela considers the scratches a rather fitting punishment. Broken as her heart is, she knows she deserves what she got and then some. She considers suicide more than once, except Beowulf had told her "death would be the easy way out" and Mason still cares enough about her to remove any possible means of harming herself, as well as to leave decent meals at her door every day. 

For that matter, Mason doesn't like it whenever he hears someone else trash-talking Adela or Marlon, and it cuts him to the core to see Nero and Sabina freely interact with the grandchildren while the children have yet to so much as realize the existence of a second pair of grandparents, under their very roof. 

After ten years of the Silent Treatment, Mason starts to consider the possibility of taking his parents back, as do his brother and sister. But you can't blame the trio one jot for being scared to death of being disappointed yet again, for not quite recovering from all the pain they'd been through and working so hard to get their lives back in order. 

Both Erica and Mason had their weddings without their parents; neither Marlon nor Adela even knew there was a wedding until it was already over. Mason was the one to give Erica away, and because Cecily was still estranged from her parents at the time, Lord Murdoch got the honor of walking her down the aisle. 

As far as Mason could tell, forgiving Adela and Marlon for everything was as good as saying nothing had ever happened or mattered so much. It all but blew his mind when Reid made an honest effort to reach out to a repentant Tyrell despite Tyrell waging war on his own family (because they were forced to exile him for treason) and threatening Reid's very life. 

Reid could see perfectly where Mason was coming from. It truly angered Reid when people insinuated that he was "forgetting" or "condoning" everything that happened. All the same, Reid couldn't look at Tyrell, Marlon, or Adela without a sharp pang of sorrow; all three were a prime example of How the Mighty Have Fallen. 

Reid knew as well as anybody that forgiveness was a personal choice, so he only protested when Mason raised an unnecessary protest, although Mason was quick to realize his folly in this and to apologize. 

No matter what happened, Mason was not going to lose his best friend if he could help it. Besides Cecily and his own little children, Reid was all Mason had left, one of the precious few things that kept him going all this time.

To make a very long story short, Mason comes to the same conclusion that Adela came to years ago: hurting his parents the way they hurt him won't make anything better. 

There comes a time when enough is enough. 

There's a scene where Mason catches a glimpse of his father and sees with his own eyes how haggard and beaten down Marlon really is, and Marlon trudges away without a single word. It's enough to make Mason almost call after him on the spot, and there's no way Mason can ignore this encounter afterward if he tried. 

Cecily, to her credit, tells her husband she'll support whatever decision he does make. Even old Nero concedes Mason has every right to do what he feels is right, whereas Murdoch and Margaret only want him to be happy either way. 

So, Mason summons the courage to enter the same room his parents are currently in, a miracle in itself. He hugs them and sheds a good number of tears with them; all Adela can think about is that her little boy is actually here with her, actually talking to her and touching her. Surely it must be a dream...the best dream come true.

Of course, all is not forgiven and forgotten just like that. There's a long, long road to recovery yet. 

However, Mason and Cecily do grant Adela and Marlon a chance to prove themselves, an opportunity to start earning that forgiveness and trust back. After thinking it over a little more, Erica and Peter do the same: "I don't know if this will work, but I'm willing to try." 

The opportunity in itself is more than Adela or Marlon could have hoped for, and they're truly grateful just for this. Neither takes this tiny opening for granted for an instant. 

For the first time in her life, Adela understands what matters most, what makes life as a whole worth living.

She may not be (conventionally) pretty anymore, but she really Took a Level in Kindness, where people want to be around her for a change.

She may not be Queen anymore, but she gets to be "Mother" once more and now she's "Gramma" as well. 

Even her marriage is salvageable. When Marlon not only doesn't shun Adela for her ghastly scars, but goes far enough to tell her she's "still beautiful" and mean it, to gently press his own lips to her mauled cheek, she melts into his arms like ice cream and bawls like a baby. Next thing you know, they're kissing like nobody's business and they end up disappearing into their bedroom for the rest of the evening, telling the rest of the household, "Don't disturb us. We need some private time, very private."

Suffice it to say that Adela is a changed woman for the better after that. Everyone who knew her as she used to be is utterly blown away. While she's plenty ashamed that she took so long, she's plenty thankful that no more time will be lost. 

I'll reveal one last spoiler before I wrap up this blog post. Adela's grandson, Oliver, ends up falling in love with Angela, Reid's daughter and Tallis's granddaughter. You can rest assured Adela has long since relinquished her obsession with joining the Lactantius family tree (they're all one big family anyhow) though this new revelation knocks her for quite a loop. 

This time, she deals with it the proper way. She tells the boy with her own lips that this romance should only happen because he and Angela want it, that she only wants him (and her) to be happy. 

Fortunately for Oliver and Angela, such happens to be the case. 

Adela's dream came true after all, when she was no longer trying so hard to make it come true. When you think about it, there's something poetic about a Lactantius becoming a Wiles, rather than the other way around.

Well, that was quite an interesting post. Quite the complex character, indeed, which makes my story that much better and all the more gratifying to write. 

How much justice I'll be able to do this story in full detail, only time will tell. Here's hoping. 

Thanks a lot, mates, and I'll see you next time!