NERO’s POV
“Nero! Patience!” My grandfather would always yell at me as a child and as I progressed in age, my reaction to that sentence greatly differed.
I believe as you must’ve already guessed; for the worst.
To be fair, at first, I did deserve it, considering I was a menace in the body of a small child.
As the young and only grandson to the leader of the dwarf clan, I wasn’t the innocent, conveniently shy child that people would envision, considering my grandfather was sweet—at least the part they knew and I was accustomed to at the time.
I was a mischief, or prankster, whichever you’d prefer to call it.
I played pranks on children, and I derived joy in that, seeing their faces contorted in an expression they didn’t like nor could control. I enjoyed bending them in a cage of my own doing.
My grandfather, terribly sweet—and loving—never minded my mischief.
Thinking back now, his dream must’ve sucked whatever energy he had to reprimand an overly energetic five-year-old.
