Resting with his back to a wall, Prince Oberyn allowed himself a slight grin as he watched the last of their plunder be loaded up onto the boats and skiff that were tied off in the harbor. While the sight of chests of gold, Valyrian steel, and other valuable loot was enough to make anyone grin, that was not the true reason why he felt the way he did. No, what was causing his mood was the young boy who had, without even seeming to have realized it, taken over command of the expedition while Nox was off doing whatever it was a sorcerer did in his free time.
He'd always been one for the more under privileged of the nobility, especially bastard children. Which was understandable considering he had seven bastard daughters of his own and, gods willing, hopefully more in the future. But he had an especially soft spot for those who did their best to rise above what the 'civilized' nobility thought their place was. His own squire back in Dorne, Daemon Sand, was one such bastard. His eldest daughters could also be considered amongst that group. And now, Jon Snow was with them as well, having earned the respect of the only true sorcerer of Westeros to the point where the man had taken the boy on as his official apprentice, a position akin to being a squire if his somewhat limited knowledge of the sorcerer and his ways meant anything. And, without a doubt, it was an honor and privilege just about any Lord or Lady in Westeros and Essos would kill to have. And, at least to Oberyn, the honor was well deserved. The boy did manage to not only hold off the flames of a dragon for gods only knew how long until Nox could return and put an end to the skirmish by killing whatever the hell it was that he'd been fighting, but he also managed to kill said dragon as well.
Thinking of the fight dampened his mood more than slightly. For a long time, Oberyn had considered himself one of the more knowledgeable men in all of Westeros, especially in matters of the arcane. Unlike many in the Citadel, he took his studies of the high mysteries seriously. He'd bore witness to a shadow priestess ritual. He knew of the warlocks of Qarth. And while he had not had the pleasure, or displeasure pending on one's viewpoint, of meeting the Faceless Men of Bravos, he knew the assassins used some form of magic to aid them. But his short time here, perusing some of the tomes of ancient Dragon Lords, reminded him of a lesson he'd long since forgotten. That no matter how much one thought they knew, there was always more out there. Whatever magic the dragons used, it was far beyond anything he'd ever seen or even heard of from other people. And watching just what Nox had done, well, that was so far beyond what even the Valyrians could probably do that he was relatively sure that had he been borne during the Valyrian Empire, the sorcerer would've either been given one of the highest seats in the Empire, or be considered a god reborn.
To say nothing of his fighting prowess, the man's power was far beyond anything Oberyn could have ever imagined. He was able to call down a storm that completely obliterated a fair portion of a city. Not destroy. Obliterate. And, as if that wasn't enough, he was able to stand in the midst of said storm and emerge without a single hair out of place. And when Oberyn added what he'd seen to the rumors he'd gathered from the battle of Pyke, rumors that he was now sure were understating Nox's capabilities, he was left with one conclusion. That Nox was, without a doubt, the most dangerous man in all of Westeros. Perhaps even Essos and Sothoryos, and all other land masses as well. And not just because of his power, but his mind as well. The man was a born strategist and a beyond excellent player of the Game, on the same level as his brother…or perhaps even greater. A thought that chilled Oberyn to the bone.
'My brother sent me out to learn what I can about Nox and report back to him. Specifically, if there is anything we can use to entice him to our way of thinking in the times to come,' Oberyn mused, glancing out of the corner of his eye at his new Valyrian spear. 'Well, after spending weeks with him, I can safely say that any rumors or stories about the man and his abilities are, if anything, understating his capabilities. And as for enticing him to our side, according the Northerners with looser lips, the sorcerer has a woman he cares deeply for waiting for him back in the North. He has the respect of the North for all his actions, which have placed him on the same level as Ned Stark in their eyes. And with this little venture into Valyria, he now has more wealth to his name than perhaps even Tywin-fucking-Lannister. In short, there is nothing we can do to entice him to leave the North. And facing him either on the field of battle or off is akin to suicide. But, perhaps, the answer to our problems lay not with the sorcerer himself. But rather…in someone who would be more…malleable. Someone young. Someone who doesn't stand to inherit anything from his father because he laid with a woman who was not his wife.'
The idea had merit. But it would take time. The sorcerer obviously cared for his new apprentice, though how deep that relationship went, he still wasn't sure. But if, within a few years, Jon Snow could wield even a fraction of the power Nox had, then he could change the course of a war with his mere presence.
'And there is the added benefit that Snow and his trueborn siblings are being raised as if they were truly siblings. Meaning there is love between them.' Oberyn mused, watching as Jon coordinated the efforts to finalize their departure. 'If there truly is family love between Snow and the future heir of the North, then that could be potentially leveraged if we were to gain control, or rather the allegiance, of the boy. I doubt controlling him will be an option, given who his mentor is. Though, the reverse is true as well. Any action taken against the North and his family would firmly put Snow against us. It will be a fine line to walk…but it is possible.'
"That is quite the pensive look for you, Prince Oberyn."
'Damn,' Oberyn cursed, just barely managing to keep himself seated instead of jumping up and grabbing his spear. 'I need to learn how he can sneak up on people so effectively. I know of many assassins that would do just about anything to have his level of skill.'
"I find myself in a pensive mood, sorcerer," Oberyn responded, slowly rising to his feet as he turned to the man he was starting to consider a friend. Or at least a man that he knew he couldn't afford not to befriend. "I take it you dealt with our wayward sailors."
"No," Nox responded, shaking his head. "I let the land take care of them. I just led them to the right spot."
Oberyn didn't really have much to say in response. The men tried to kill himself and take one of his daughters as a plaything. As far as he was concerned, whatever ill fate befell those fools was well deserved. "Well, as long as they're dealt with, I guess that is all that matters."
"Indeed," Nox agreed before turning towards the boats. "Is everything set?"
"Yes," Oberyn nodded. "The boats are filled to the point where they're about to capsize. And they're chained to the others so we can tow them out of this godforsaken land."
"Good," Nox nodded, his tone lighter than it had been for days. "Then let us get out of this hellhole and start discovering just what kinds of treasures we have managed to procure from this costly venture, shall we?"