Hel liked it when her brother embraced her, squeezing tight. It reminded her of childhood, when he would curl around her and she would squeal. She couldn't imagine accepting such expressive physicality from anyone else, but Fenrir and Jörmungandr weren't anyone else. They had grown up together before the separation, they had been the two people she had constantly longed for during her time on the throne in Helheim.
English was second nature to Hel by now, but still their born language slipped ever easily to her tongue. "I would like this," Hel told him, staying close to let him have her warmth. It wasn't winter anymore, but still she worried about his cold blood. "I am glad you have made a place for yourself," she said and then, a little awkwardly, "and that you've made a friend."