Kuja
Drama
The whole world is a stage- and like any stage, he dominates it. There can be no room for insipid co-stars, like the Elephant Lady. Garland may have tried to insert himself into the act, a la deus ex machina, but in the end it was he, Kuja, who had the last laugh. Terra lies in ruins, its punishment for harbouring the vast decay that inspired Garland to spawn him. There seems little left to do.
But there's one final act to be accomplished, first: the tragic death of the star's own brother. It's a delicious smattering of irony, quite fitting for the curtain call. A case of the Emperor versus the Fool (where did he read that before? Perhaps another by Lord Avon), except this time, the clown shan't win.
And all this because he unwittingly let a canary loose from its cage. Yes, that canary flits around his head even now, pecking and pecking, trying to find even the slightest weakness. It won't hold; he is perfect.
Truly, his is the essence of the play. In the first acts, nothing more than an overarching presence, casting everything in his shadow; slowly, slowly, he unveiled his hand, with a sense of theatrical timing that even Queen Brahne herself would have been able to appreciate. His perfection is boundless...
And yet, there is one thing he stubbornly ignores. One fact that the canary and the clown cling to desperately.
He is the essence of the play. And, like any play, he must end sooner rather than later.