Daydreamer

Callous Seville knew he was fictional.

He wasn't sure why he was the only one who knew this wasn't real. Or maybe the other's knew it too, but never voiced it.

So he waited. He stretched out his legs, too thin to be entirely human (did this girl understand anything about human anatomy?). As far as jobs went, his wasn't particularly hard. His men and women followed orders he never said, in attempt to move the plot along. He never moved from his gilded chair, simply watched the scenes fold out on a holographic screen.

He didn't choose to be the villain, but then, no one ever did. It was simply his part to play. He may have been a pawn in some larger game, but here? Here he was king.