Nessa

When asked where your sons and daughters are, you tend to snap, violently, turning what might have been a pleasant afternoon into an unpleasant standoff between you and your visitors, over a subject they thought was innocent yet important, and for some reason made you violent.

You style yourself a minor godling, not important enough to warrant greater attention, but special enough that any questioning of your prowess sends you into a rage. You do not get many visitors, but your own self-absorption does not allow you to see this as a problem, or even to be bothered by it. As far as you are concerned, no one visits you either out of fear, or because those who are more powerful cannot be bothered by your corner of heaven.

Your shameful secret, or at least the secret that the males you breed would find reprehensible, if they knew, has to do with your attitude towards your eggs. They are pretty, and a symbol of status to have, but after they hatch become a bother of extreme proportions. You drive off the males, or gift them with such supreme indifference that they leave in disgust, and then pamper the eggs for as long as you have them. The children are banished. You don't particularly care where, they are completely irrelevant to you and your worldview. They could be slaves, they could be eaten, they could grow up to hate you, or not remember you at all. In your godliness, they don't matter at all. Why should they?