Gravel crunched underfoot in a tight yard by the palace gate, its sharp stones glinting faintly as dawn broke gray and cold. A low wall ringed the space, its rough edges chipped from years of scuffles, and soldiers leaned on shields along it, their bronze rims dull in the dim light. Fog clung to the ground, swirling thick around boots and knees, its damp chill seeping into tunics and skin. The air hung heavy, sharp with the scent of wet earth and rust, and the distant clatter of the waking palace buzzed beyond the gate, a faint hum beneath the yard's tense quiet.
Bhima stood at the yard's center, his broad frame planted wide, his fists clenched as his muddy vest hung torn from the shoulder, flapping against his chest. His dark curls bounced, damp with fog, and his boots scuffed the gravel as he shifted, his grin fierce and wide. Duryodhana faced him, his dark tunic tight, his small frame coiled as he rocked on his heels, his dark eyes glinting with venom. Arjuna waited near the wall, his staff gripped loose, his tunic rippling as he watched, his dark hair tied back. Yudhishthira lingered by a pillar, his patched tunic swaying, his dark gaze steady but wary. Duhshasana hopped near Duryodhana, his fair hair wild, his small tunic creased as he waved a fist, his restless energy crackling.
Bhima's voice bellowed, gruff and bold as he swung a fist, his broad arm arcing fast. "Fists too much, little prince? Try keeping up!" He landed a blow to Duryodhana's chest, a dull thud ringing out, and his dark curls shook, his fury a roar as he pressed forward, gravel scattering.
Duryodhana staggered, his voice snarling, fierce and low as he stumbled back, his small hands clutching his chest. "Try? Try steel, oaf! Bleed for it!" He yanked the blade from his belt, its edge flashing as he slashed at Bhima's arm, a thin red line blooming against the skin, blood beading fast.
Bhima's roar erupted, loud and wild as he twisted, his voice gruff and sharp. "Steel? You'll lose that too!" He swung again, his broad fist knocking the blade aside, its metal skittering across the gravel with a sharp clatter, and his dark eyes blazed, his torn vest flapping as he lunged.
Arjuna's voice shouted, sharp and quick as he leapt in, his staff cracking against Duhshasana's shoulder, a loud snap cutting the fog. "Drop it, coward! Back off now!" He swung again, his small frame darting, and his tunic rippled, his resolve a steel wall as Duhshasana yelped, his fair arm flailing.
Duhshasana's voice rose, shrill and wild as he clutched his shoulder, his small tunic tearing. "Off? Hit me? You'll get it!" He swung a fist, his fair hair bouncing, and his blow grazed Arjuna's side, his desperation a frantic spark in the chaos.
Yudhishthira's voice came calm and firm, his hand grabbing a Kaurava boy's arm as he pulled him back, his patched tunic settling. "Enough! Step off, all of you!" He hauled the boy aside, his dark eyes locking with Duryodhana's through the fog, and his restraint strained, a quiet anchor in the yard's storm.
Duryodhana's voice hissed, fierce and bitter as he scrambled for the blade, his small boots slipping. "Step off? I'll cut him yet!" He lunged, his dark tunic stretching, and his hand closed on the hilt, his venom a fire surging as he swung again, the steel whistling.
Bhima's laugh barked, his voice loud and gruff as he caught Duryodhana's wrist, his broad fingers tight. "Cut? You're done, rat!" He twisted hard, the blade dropping once more, and he shoved Duryodhana back, his dark curls shaking, his fury a wall crashing down.
Arjuna's staff swung low, his voice crisp and loud as he knocked Duhshasana's legs, his small frame steady. "Done too, you! Stay down!" He pinned him briefly, his dark eyes glinting, and his tunic fluttered, his staff a blur as soldiers shouted, their shields rattling.
Yudhishthira's voice rose, steady and sharp as he stepped between them, his hands raised. "Down, I said! Stop this now!" He grabbed Bhima's arm, his dark hair swaying, and his calm held, pulling them apart as a soldier darted in, his shield clanging against the gravel.
Duryodhana's voice snarled, low and fierce as he stumbled back, his small frame trembling. "Stop? Not till he's flat! You'll see!" He kicked the gravel, his dark tunic torn, and his dark eyes locked with Bhima's, his malice a venom pulsing through the fog.
Bhima's voice rumbled, bold and gruff as he dusted his hands, his broad frame looming. "Flat? Come try, little prince! I'm waiting!" He grinned, his dark curls bouncing, and his torn vest flapped, the red line on his arm glistening as he stood tall, his rage a fire unquenched.
Arjuna's voice followed, sharp and bright as he lowered his staff, his small hands steady. "Waiting? He won't dare! Truce is dead, eh?" He glanced at Yudhishthira, his dark eyes narrowing, and his tunic settled, his resolve a blade cutting the tension.
Yudhishthira's voice softened, his hands dropping as he turned, his dark gaze heavy. "Dead, maybe. No more here, though. Back off!" He nodded at the soldiers, his patched tunic still, and his calm strained, a thread snapping in the yard's chaos.
The soldiers surged, their voices loud and rough as they pushed between, their shields clashing. "Off! Break it up!" One grabbed Duryodhana's shoulder, another pulled Bhima, and the gravel crunched louder, their shouts a wall forcing the spar apart.
Duryodhana's voice hissed, fierce and low as he shook free, his small frame buzzing. "Break? I'll break 'em all! Soon!" He glared, his dark eyes locked with Bhima's, and his hand hovered where the blade had been, his venom a seal on their enmity.
Bhima's laugh rolled out, gruff and bold as he stepped back, his broad hands flexing. "Soon? Bring more than that toy! I'm here!" He slapped his chest, his dark curls shaking, and his grin held, his fury a rock against Duryodhana's storm.
Arjuna's voice came crisp and steady, his staff resting as he moved to Yudhishthira, his small frame calm. "Here, yes. He's got nothing left. Look at him!" He pointed, his dark eyes glinting, and his tunic fluttered, his steel a quiet strength in the fog.
Duhshasana's voice whimpered, shrill and weak as he rubbed his shoulder, his fair hair plastered with sweat. "Nothing? I'll hit back! Watch me!" He staggered up, his small tunic ripped, and his glare faltered, his wildness dimming as soldiers loomed.
Yudhishthira's voice stayed steady, his hand on Bhima's arm as he turned them away, his dark hair loose. "Watch? No more today. We're done here." He glanced back, his dark eyes meeting Duryodhana's one last time, and his calm broke the clash, a final pull from the edge.
The yard cleared, gravel settling as soldiers shoved the cousins apart, their shields a barrier in the fog. Duryodhana's blade lay abandoned, its steel glinting faintly, and his voice muttered, fierce and low as he stormed off, his dark tunic a blur. "Done? Never. I'll gut him yet." His small boots crunched, his enmity locked tight, a fire burning through the mist.
Bhima's voice echoed, bold and loud as he followed Yudhishthira, his broad frame steady. "Gut me? Dream on, rat! Next time's mine!" He laughed, his dark curls bouncing, and his torn vest flapped, his rage a mark set in stone.
The fog thickened, its veil curling over the yard, and the soldiers leaned back on their shields, their murmurs low and tense. Arjuna's voice came soft and sharp, his staff tapping as he trailed Bhima, his dark eyes distant. "Next time, yes. This breaks for good now." He nodded, his tunic settling, and the enmity stood, an irreparable break sealed in the dawn.