Hades shook his head and waved off her apology. “You really shouldn't have to feel like you need to apologize for that. Especially here.” Half of her could be completely missing for all Hades cared in his own realm. The idea that someone or something down the line had made her feel like apologizing for her own natural form was necessary in polite society didn't sit well with him. No one could help the way they were born. “I think,” Hades said, “about everyone would be half corpse if appearances were honest. I mean...if reflections were really reflections we'd all probably look more like you.”
She spoke of her childhood sweetly, but Hades thought he detected a tinge of melancholy there. A kind of longing. A wistfulness. The queen hadn't mentioned anything to the effect, but Hades could only imagine how cruel some of her peers could have been to someone as unique as she was. Death and decay were aversions that most gods didn't have to get over. Hades couldn't imagine that the Norse were any different in that respect. She'd been little girl who just wanted to join the other children, but was held back against her will by factors beyond her control that she was too young to really understand. It was a sad image. Her childhood hadn't played out exactly in the way that it should have. That was something Hades could understand.
“I didn't get to play much as a child either,” he said. At all, really. Hades met her eyes and offered a small, sad, sympathetic sort of smile, before his gaze fell to the ground. He liked to hear about childhoods. The games people played. The mischief. The life lessons. The things he'd missed. Hades found it all more fascinating than those who had experienced it would.
But when it came to discussing his own time as a child, Hades didn't relish discussing it much. He figured the Greeks all knew the story anyway, even if they didn't truly grasp what it really meant for those involved. But Hel was not Greek, and Hades couldn't presume that sharing was any easier for her. He also couldn't assume that she was more familiar with his pantheon than he was with hers, even if it did turn out to be the case.
In case he needed to clarify, Hades added, “My parents weren't technically giants but they were kind of giant. Titans. They ruled over all of the Greek cosmos before the gods,” He frowned, and tried to figure out the best way to phrase the next part for an outsider. There was no good way. “My father swallowed me alive immediately after I was born. He swallowed five of his children. Would have swallowed all six, but my mother tricked him with a rock the last time. We were pretty much all grown by the time we got out.”
Hades shook his head. That sort of story was hardly the best representation of his pantheon. He wanted to add some sort of disclaimer at the end, but what exactly could he say? Not all Greek deities eat their young? Not all Greek stories sound quite that ridiculous?