Styx did not like the sound of that at all. What sort of parent let their child think that they were not proud of them? At least Hel knew that her father loved her, that made things a little less rough. But the man's daughter had been plucked away and shoved into a world on her own and made the best of it... and he never said he was proud of her? What the heck was that?
Even for Pallas' failings, and he had some -so did Styx and she knew that, at least their children never questioned what he thought of them. At least, she thought they didn't. They'd never said if they felt otherwise. A moot point, though. Pallas was dead.
There was a bitterness in the air. Styx wasn't sure if it was attached to Hel's memory of her father or if there was still something else bubbling under the surface.
“Why would he keep you hidden away?” she asked without thinking at all. Quickly, in a way to try to make that right, she continued, “what I mean, is... all any decent parent wants for their children is the best. Sometimes what they, or even in my case so we, think is best others do not understand. Sometimes it causes pain. But generally, we want the best.” She gave Hel a thoughtful look. “Was it maybe his way, given what had happened before, of trying to protect you?”