“Bragi,” she repeated when he gave his name. There was as small nod, then she offered her hand in greeting. The one that wasn't holding a basket. “I'm Sigyn.”
Chances were that he'd not have heard of her. Few had. She didn't have famous parents. In fact, she'd been fostered with a southern goddess until being brought to Asgard. And she really didn't do the things that other goddesses did; she was not fond of sitting around gossiping while being frustrated by threads and yarn. Any feast she'd attended had seen her seated at the back of the hall in some obscure corner. The only notoriety that Sigyn might have had lay in the identity of the man who had been courting her.
Secretly.
Well, supposedly secretly. Loki hadn't wanted certain parties to be aware of his interest in Sigyn. But the gossip mill was never short of grist in this place, and the comings and goings of a character such as the Trickster tended to be noticed. Especially when he seemed to be stopping by to see someone a bit more often than would be seemly. Sigyn had heard a few whispers about her own reputation, but she ignored them. She knew the truth.
And she knew what Bragis' wife was up to as well. She really didn't like being put in the position of having to break this news but someone had to tell Bragi. “I know who she is with. Not where, but definitely who.” Sigyn paused, but she knew the best way to deliver a blow like this would be quickly and cleanly. “She's with Loki.”