Chapter 1 – The Boy in the Shadows
They said the Fates had strange humor.
Ivar believed it the moment he laid eyes on the boy at Yancy Academy — messy black hair, sea-green eyes full of confusion, an aura of power he didn't even know he had. Percy Jackson.
The storm had finally arrived.
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Yancy Academy
Ivar walked the halls of the private boarding school with the ease of someone who didn't belong but dared anyone to say otherwise. To the teachers, he was a transfer student with a spotless file and too-sharp eyes. To the kids, he was a rumor — quiet, too old-looking for his grade, yet untouchable in every fight.
They didn't know he was watching Percy. Protecting him, though Percy never noticed.
The gods hadn't told Ivar everything, but he didn't need their whispers. He could feel it. Percy carried the sea in his blood. Just like him.
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The Museum Trip
The day of the field trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Ivar walked a step behind Percy, scanning the crowd of kids and teachers. Nancy Bobofit was already tormenting Grover, Percy's satyr friend hiding poorly beneath his mortal disguise. Percy tried to defend him, awkward but earnest.
Ivar leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, watching. He remembered being fourteen in Capua, branded a slave, fighting in the pits. Percy was no gladiator — not yet. But storms always start small.
When Mrs. Dodds cornered Percy in the exhibit — her eyes glowing, her voice twisting into something not human — Ivar was already moving.
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The Fury
He slipped into the room just as Mrs. Dodds revealed her true form. Wings snapped open, claws gleamed, and the air stank of brimstone. Percy stumbled back, panic wide in his eyes.
"Classic," Ivar muttered, drawing his short sword from under his jacket.
Dodds' head whipped toward him, her snarl breaking the air. "You—"
"Me," Ivar cut her off, his tone calm, almost bored. "I thought the Furies had better jobs than terrorizing kids."
She lunged. Ivar moved faster, his blade flashing in arcs learned over centuries. But he didn't finish her. That wasn't his role. The storm wasn't his alone.
So he stepped back, giving Percy space — just enough time for Mr. Brunner to toss the pen. Percy's hand closed around it, the sword appeared, and with one terrified, desperate swing, Percy sliced Mrs. Dodds into golden dust.
The boy stood frozen, breathing hard, staring at the blade in his hands.
Ivar only sheathed his sword, watching with calm sea-colored eyes. The storm has begun, he thought.
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The Aftermath
When Percy looked around, confused, the other kids acted like nothing had happened. Grover fidgeted nervously, muttering excuses. Mr. Brunner wheeled back into his office without explanation.
Ivar leaned close to Percy as they walked out, his voice low, steady.
"You're not crazy, kid. Trust me."
Percy blinked at him, startled. "What… what are you talking about? You saw her too?"
Ivar gave the faintest smile. "I've seen worse. Just keep breathing. Answers will come."
He didn't say more. Not yet.
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Closing
That night, as Percy lay restless in his bunk, Ivar sat by the window, staring at the storm gathering outside. Lightning flashed across the sky, thunder rumbling deep in the earth.
The prophecy of Delphi echoed again.
Child of storm, child of sea…
He whispered thanks, as he always did. For survival. For endurance. For the storm finally beginning to break.
And he waited.
Because Percy Jackson's story had just begun.
And now, it was his too.
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⚡ Do you want me to keep Chapter 2 following Percy's point of view closely (the build-up at Yancy and return to his mom) with Ivar woven in as a shadow/mentor figure, or should I shift more into Ivar's direct perspective, showing what he's thinking and doing behind the scenes as Percy stumbles toward discovering the truth?