Chapter 3: The Old Gods and the New. And Tits.

~286 AC~

"~Robb, you can't ignore me forever~", a beautiful voice, as sweet as the most exquisite of treacle tarts rang through the halls of Winterfell.

Robb had just gotten done visiting his new sibling, Sansa. Being an older brother was a fresh experience for him since Jon was too close in physical age. He looked forward to playing the role in the future. Like him, she had taken after their mother in her coloring.

It seemed that he was a magnet for redheads no matter the circumstances.

Instead of going back to his room or paying attention to the beautiful voice, he had decided to wander through the castle's halls. It had taken some time to truly appreciate the marvel that was Winterfell.

To Robb's mind, the actual size of a castle didn't matter because of how omnipresent expansion charms tended to be for magical buildings. Once he had freed himself from that mindset, he had come to recognize the exceptional feat the size of a castle like Winterfell represented.

"~Robb~"

Doing his best to tune out the voice which had taken on a playful, flirtatious tone, he brought his occlumency skills to bear and put his hand upon one of the many stones that made up Winterfell. There was much to be found in these walls, and not for the first time wondered if some magic hadn't gone into it's construction. He was no expert, or even novice on castle building, but he had some knowledge.

Winterfell absolutely dwarfed anything he had seen on his few, highly regulated visits to Winter town. In size and quality. The muddy roads were an odd sight when you considered the skill needed to put the stone together to build something like Winterfell. He knew castle and roadbuilding were separate skillsets, but surely there was some common ground.

Even the kingsroad was apparently just a simple dirt road. Then there were the other great castles of Westeros that were said to match Winterfell in size and majesty. How such a discrepancy in knowledge could exist, he knew not. Robb was no engineer, but it was something to look into.

After all, he would inherit this all one day, and he wanted the best.

In his previous life as Harry Potter he had come to appreciate the finer things in life. Being head auror demanded a certain level of dress code, and while he was reluctant at first to spend galleons at any place that wasn't Madam Malkin's, he had eventually given in.

He had felt stupid in not doing so earlier. The way high quality robes had felt was an experience he wouldn't forget even in this life, and Malfoy's smug, knowing expression as he started to "finally dress befitting his station" hadn't detracted from it one bit.

"~Robb, you're going to make me cry if you keep ignoring me~"

The voice had delivered the statement with such a strong tone of sadness inflected, that Robb, against his better judgment, put aside thoughts of expensive robes and spectacular stone roads to look in the direction of the voice.

His first thought was that it was a good thing he had already taken to practicing occlumency so early in this new life. If he hadn't, he was sure he would've thrown himself at the feet of this beauty and proclaimed himself her faithful servant forever and always.

And his balls hadn't even dropped yet!

A heart-shaped face framed with brown hair falling to her shoulders in ringlets. His three year old height had made it difficult to catch sight of her eye color at this angle, but frankly he wasn't all too interested in that at the moment.

As he looked up past her outrageously ample hips, he settled his eyes on what were perhaps the biggest pair of tits he had ever seen. In this life and the one before.

And even a theoretical third life if he got one.

Each one bigger than his head, so awe-inspiring they were he was sure that his entrance into puberty had been pushed ahead of schedule by several years.

"Ah, my eyes are up here."

Robb ignored the voice and continued to stare at those tits. He couldn't pull his gaze from them even if he wanted to.

Not even resisting Voldemort's Imperio had been this difficult!

What was it that drew men to tits? A memory of something Seamus had said once before came to him suddenly. "Tits are life." He had dismissed the notion when he had first heard it. As Harry Potter, Robb had been an ass man through and through. Being on the quidditch team since his first year, he had spent half the time looking at the shapely rears of the girls on the team. All the quidditch workouts had done them good, and Ginny had had the best of them. The amount of galleons he could stack on her arse...it was brilliant!

But!

But!

Seeing these tits had awakened something in Robb, a desire.

A fetish, even.

Hermione in one of her muggle knowledge drops that he tended to tune out, had said that fetishes formed early in life. It seemed she was right.

Despite his inability to get a boner at this stage in his new life, Robb was sure of one thing. He wanted those tits.

"Excuse me..."

He had heard her, of course. But still, he couldn't stop the staring. Suddenly, a pair of arms came up and shielded those magnificient tits from his view, the trance they had on his will broken.

"Hey! I was looking at those!" Robb snapped, his view taken from him. He decided to look up to where the voice came from, and was greeted with warm brown eyes, and a perfectly proportioned face.

A face arranged so perfectly, he might even describe it as godly.

"Finally!" The ridiculously beautiful women with perfect tits had said, "I was wondering how long it'd take to get your attention."

Robb had had a good idea of who this was.

"Well," Robb responded, bringing forth all the grace and etiquette he'd learned in his previous life "You have it now. What is it that you require of me, my lady?" The woman brought her hands to her face, squealing. "Oh, how polite! And at such an age!" Robb fought hard to keep his gaze up, harder than he had in a long time.

She continued, her hands now folded in front of her waist in a solemn manner, her voice adjusted to match it "I just wanted to know what you thought about our offer. We could do great things together Robb. Good things."

Ah.

He had figured that was the case.

The first one to visit had been a stern, bearded man, strong of face. The second, a middle-aged man dressed like a craftsman and carrying the air of one, all manner of tools affixed to his clothes, hammer in hand. And the third, a giant of a man donned in full plate of pure white.

It seemed that they had figured out that Robb didn't care much for men, and had sent a woman to him instead.

And what a woman they had sent.

It could only be The Maiden, in all her glory.

For a religion that seemed to favor their believers to have a decently strong sense of chastity, it's avatar for what should be a prim and proper young lady instead seemed to be one made for sin.

Thoughts of religion had brought up memories of his experience in the magical world. It was an odd thing there, especially so with the knowledge of the existence of the soul. For the most part, it was known that as long as you didn't commit acts that damaged your soul, you were probably going to be alright in the afterlife.

Sometimes people prayed to gods, which were various.

And real, to.

It seemed that having a large group of beings with the ability to warp reality praying to you had meaning. Though Robb didn't bother to look much into religion in the wizarding world, what he knew boiled down to praying to a being and occasionally offering sacrifices for minor boons. It appeared that the social aspects were what was most valued. But on the whole, it was never something that others went into conflict over.

In Westeros, it was different.

Everyone from what he observed, prayed, or honored their gods in some manner. The Dursleys had went to church every Sunday, but their faith was weak compared to the people here.

His knowledge of religion in this world was lacking, but he roughly understood that The North kept to the Old Gods with the exception of House Manderly.

And yet despite being the odd ones out in their religion, House Manderly was from what he knew one of their principal bannermen, with a long and loud history of Stark loyalism. They were also the wealthiest house in The North, and so if there was any conflict over religion it couldn't matter too much he supposed.

He knew even with his weak background in muggle history that religion was something people often fought over. Whether that was the case here, he couldn't tell just yet.

It seemed there was some racial and cultural pride to it as well, but he was unclear on that as well. He had a Royce fairly recently in his ancestral line, and though they seemed to share blood with the people of the North, the fact they had knights implied they kept to the Faith of the Seven.

But this was all speculation on Robb's part. He was young yet and hadn't properly toured his lands. To get a feel for his people, he would have to venture out himself.

And even then, he was a mighty wizard. Simple cultural divides like these meant little in the face of his magic.

All that aside, he regarded the woman before him thinking of how to answer in the most diplomatic way he could. He didn't want to upset her, lest those tits be forever out of his grasp.

"I've been considering it my lady, but this is a very important matter. I ask that you wait until I'm older and have learned more of the world before I come to an answer." Robb finished, thinking the answer would satisfy her.

Gods were gods for a reason though, and seeing through his evasive answer as it spilled from his lips, she opted to drop her solemn demeanor and resume her playful one. "Such an adult answer for one so young. As expected of the person who has drawn our attention." Robb blushed at the praise, but he was certain that she knew he wasn't the child he appeared to be. She continued, sinking to her knees and looking him in the eyes as she grasped his hands, holding them as if praying "You're very special Robb, and I'd hate to see the wrong people influence you."

He had a feeling that by "other people" she meant other Gods, and he felt a headache coming on.

When he had said he regretted not banging a ton of witches in his past life as he was dying, he didn't think dealing with a bunch of Gods would be part of the package in his new one!

Faced with the sight of this beautiful goddess on her knees, Robb wanted to say that he would rage holy war in her name, but he was no simp. No weak-willed wizard. He wouldn't fall so easily, if ever, so he settled on a different answer.

"You're the only one for me, Maiden." He wanted to slap himself, he hadn't meant to say that!

Damn those tits!

She laughed, a most beautiful sound Robb had noted, and stood back up to her full height, petite though she was. "You're so sweet Robb, hopefully one day you mean those words. Though you are right, you are still young. I believe in time you will see our cause as just."

As she finished her statement, she had started to fade. "Ah," started at her own waning person. "It seems my time is up. Materializing on the mortal plane has taken more energy than I'd thought. Though I suppose the fact it was even possible at all is thanks to you." An appraising glance as she looked over Robb, until it eventually settled back into her playful one. "Until next time, Robb. And don't forget, faithful followers are rewarded." The last sentence said with a playful wink, and then she was gone.

Robb exhaled, exhausted. The Maiden was dangerous. He'd always heard stories about men waging wars over the beauty of a single woman and had thought it ridiculous until now. His experience with the other three members of the faith of seven had showed him that gods had a naturally charismatic aura to them that could take you unawares if you weren't skilled in the art of shielding your mind from external influences. A goddess seemed to be even worse, making the veela allure he was familiar with look like child's play.

It'd taken all his skill in occlumency to have a conversation without looking too dumb.

While Robb hadn't lost any of his magical skill, magic was like a muscle. Losing his previous body at meant that he had to get his mind and body into working order once more. He was fast on track, knowing exactly what to do. He even had some rituals planned once he found materials worthy of sacrifice.

The problem was that he hadn't expected to meet any gods.

As Robb would find out though, his magic made him special in this world. An anomaly.

He had questioned Maester Luwin about his magical knowledge as soon as he could, but he hadn't known much.

He had claimed magic was dead, but that only meant it was alive at one point, and so Robb pressed on until the maester had relented and told all he knew.

Dragons came first, of course. Then tales of skinchangers and bloodmagic. Of shadowbinders and fire priest.

Skinchanging had interested him.

He knew about the storied history of his house, about how the Starks of old had took the warg king's daughters to wife to strengthen their bloodline. He supposed he might possess the ability. To him it had sounded like a branch of the mind arts. It was fairly easy to compel non-magical animals to do your bidding. Experimentation on animals were the first step to anyone wanting to gain mastery of the imperio spell.

Robb was above average at the mind arts as a whole. While he was an exceptional occlumens, he lacked the blatant disregard for people needed to be an exceptional legilimens. It took a certain kind of person to freely read a person's thoughts and not feel that your fellow man deserved at least a modicum of privacy.

No small wonder people like Voldemort and Snape had been exceptional legilimens.

Robb had eventually planned on testing if he had any affinity for skinchanging once he had full access to his magic again in a few years, but he had a feeling he would succeed.

And while he wasn't so arrogant as to think he was the only one alive with magic currently, Robb instincts and the state of the world were telling him he was unique in his applications, and peerless in magical might.

Strangely enough, a not insignificant amount of the people he'd met so far could qualify as squibs. His parents were such people.

It wasn't widely acknowledged in the wizarding world lest people use it as arguments for blood supremacy, but whether the mother was magical or not played a big role on whether a child had magic or not.

There was a reason why the majority of half-bloods with one muggle parent often had a witch as the magical parent. Magic was internal, and it affected the development of the fetus. Squibs had internal magic, and so female squibs had a decent chance of giving birth to a magical child in the right circumstances.

Speaking of his mother, he thought back to the goddess he had just met and shook his head with an amused expression. His mother didn't know it, but while she was pregnant with him, his magic was strengthening her prayers, and consequently directly strengthening the gods she prayed to.

One facet of occlumency was that it shielded from others scrying and locating your person through magical means. Robb had been employing it since the moment he had been circulating his magic through his body to strengthen it. However, the seven who are one had known about him through his mother.

And they were very interested.

Robb had no interest in The Father, The Smith, or The Warrior, but damn if The Maiden didn't interest him. It was said that women would pray to her for forgiveness if they used sex as a means to gain something.

He was hoping that said something about her person, plots already forming of how he could get ahold of her.

Thoughts of potential shagging aside, their cause had left Robb slightly worried. He had thought back to a particular statement The Father had said at the end of their meeting, "The Children of the Forest, the first worshippers of the Old Gods, waged war with the First Men for a millennia. They employed no small amount of vile and most evil sacrificial magicks to their Gods during this war, causing great destruction still seen to this day, and even as of yet. Knowing this, can you say the Old Gods were ever fit to be gods for men? Think on that, young Stark."

And as he ventured through the halls of Winterfell back to his room tired of ruminating on world-changing topics, he fell asleep and dreamt of those enormous tits.

A/N:

Why yes, I don't trust the Children of the Forest. How could you tell?

As for whether Robb will expand the Faith of Seven in The North, the answer is no.

He's going to end up fathering more than a few (or many) bastards in this story, so they aren't going to be fans. I just want to introduce another angle to the religion aspect instead of having it simply be Old Gods good Faith of Seven bad.