Sunrise glowed faint over a frozen lake near Hastinapura, its pale light glinting off a sheet of ice that stretched smooth and slick underfoot. Mist curled from the surface, rising in wispy tendrils as the cold bit the air, while the distant trees stood stark and bare, their branches rimed with frost. The lake shimmered vast and treacherous, its surface groaning faintly under pressure, a battlefield trembling with peril, ready to test the princes' iron against the unforgiving chill of dawn.
Drona stood at the lake's edge, his lean frame steady in the dim light, his tattered white robes fluttering faintly as he exhaled a plume of mist. His gray hair was tied back tight, and his dark eyes gleamed with a stern, approving fire as he faced the Kuru princes. In one hand, he held his staff, its tip planted firm in the snowy bank; the other rested on a pile of maces, their iron heads dull but heavy. The princes gathered around him, their tunics layered against the cold, their breaths puffing white in the crisp air as they rubbed their hands, wariness flickering in their shivering forms.
Bhima rocked on his heels, his massive frame crunching the snow, his broad grin flashing wide as he clapped his hands with a loud thud that sent mist swirling. "Maces on ice, guru?" he said, his voice booming across the lake, loud enough to crack the stillness. "This is nuts! We sliding or smashing today?"
Drona turned to him, his expression calm but unyielding, his voice cutting through the cold with steady force. "Smashing, Bhima," he said, his tone deep and firm, hushing the air for a moment. "Duels on ice. Control your strikes, keep your feet. Slippery ground tests mastery. Pair up, take a mace. Begin when I call."
Bhima's grin stretched wider, his eyes lighting up as he laughed, the sound rumbling over the ice. "Mastery, huh?" he said, his tone bright and eager, grabbing a mace with a grunt. "I'll master this freeze! Let's go, guru!"
"Master it slow," Drona replied, his voice dry and patient, pointing at the ice. "Five strikes each. Stay up."
Duryodhana strode forward, his chin high, his dark hair glinting with frost as he gripped a mace tight. "Stay up?" he said, his voice low and edged with a smirk, his brow lifting slightly. "I'll crush them standing. No ice is stopping me. Guru, I'm set."
"Crush with balance," Drona said, his tone stern and sharp, meeting Duryodhana's smirk with a nod. "Step on. Show me."
Arjuna stepped up beside them, his lean form quiet and still, his boots crunching the snow as he studied the frozen lake. His tunic shimmered with frost, his breath even, and his dark eyes flicked to Drona with a steady focus. "This is tricky," he said, his voice soft but clear, grabbing a mace with a nod. "It's all footing, guru. Any advice?"
"Feel the ice," Drona said, his gaze settling on Arjuna with a flicker of warmth, his tone firm. "Shift your weight, move with it. You'll find it."
The princes shuffled onto the lake, their boots sliding as they tested the ice, the air humming with the clank of iron and the groan of the frozen surface. Bhima lumbered forward, his massive frame wobbling, his laugh booming as he faced Duryodhana. "Here we go!" he shouted, his voice ringing loud, swinging the mace with a grunt. The ice creaked under him, his strike veering wide as he slipped, but he caught himself, planting his feet with a thud.
"Ha!" Bhima said, his tone bright and unbothered, steadying his stance. "This stuff's alive! I'll tame it!" He swung again, slower this time, the mace tapping Duryodhana's arm with a solid clank, his grin widening.
Drona watched from the bank, his voice steady and firm as he called over the ice. "One, Bhima!" he said, his tone warm with patience, pointing at his feet. "Steady now! Control it!"
"Control?" Bhima said, chuckling as he shifted his weight, his mace raised. "I'm controlling a beast!" He swung again, the iron clipping Duryodhana's shoulder, and he stayed firm, his boots gripping the ice.
Duryodhana swung back, his scowl fierce, his voice low and sharp as he gritted his teeth. "Steady?" he said, his tone bitter and edged, aiming for Bhima's chest. The mace whistled through the mist, but the ice betrayed him, his feet sliding as the strike missed, and he flailed, arms wheeling before he caught his balance.
Bhima laughed, his voice loud and cheerful as he swung again, tapping Duryodhana's leg. "Three!" he said, his tone bright and triumphant, his stance solid. "You're dancing, cousin!"
"Dancing's not fighting," Duryodhana replied, his voice sharp and fierce, lunging with a grunt. His mace struck Bhima's arm, a hard thud, but the effort tipped him, and he slipped, crashing to the ice with a groan.
The lake pulsed with their efforts, the air thick with mist and the clank of iron—Bhima's steady swings, Duryodhana's wild counters, the ice cracking faintly beneath them. Bhima swung twice more, his mace landing clean on Duryodhana's chest and shoulder, his feet planted firm. "Five!" he said, his voice loud and exultant, lowering his mace as Duryodhana scrambled up.
Drona stepped onto the ice, his voice warm with awe as he nodded at Bhima. "Five?" he said, his tone ringing clear, his eyes wide. "Steady and sure, Bhima? That's growth!"
Duryodhana swung again, his mace aiming for Bhima's side, but the ice shifted, and he slipped mid-strike, his arms flailing as he fell hard. Bhima dropped his mace, his grin wide, and caught Duryodhana's arm, hauling him up with a laugh. "Got you!" he said, his tone bright and warm, steadying him on the slick ground. "No tumbling on my watch!"
Duryodhana froze, his scowl deep, his voice low and sharp as he pulled free. "Got me?" he said, his tone bitter but grudging, brushing ice from his tunic. "You're too solid, Bhima. I'll stand next time."
Drona's brow lifted, his voice warm with pride as he clapped Bhima's shoulder. "Solid?" he said, his tone steady and pleased. "That's it, Bhima. Control and heart. Well done."
Bhima laughed, his chest heaving, his voice loud and teasing as he flexed his arms. "Heart?" he said, his tone bright and honest, grinning wide. "I'm an ice king now! Good scrap, huh?"
"Good and won," Drona said, his tone dry but fond, turning to Duryodhana. "One hit, Duryodhana. Fierce, but unsteady."
"Unsteady?" Duryodhana said, his smirk faint but fierce, his voice low and edged as he kicked at the ice. "This lake's a cheat. I'll master it yet."
"Master's what he did," Arjuna said, his voice soft and steady, stepping up from his own duel with a nod. "Five's no cheat, Duryodhana. You fought hard."
"Hard's not enough," Duryodhana replied, his smirk sharpening, his tone sly and cold as he brushed past. "I'll top that."
Drona called them in, his voice cutting through the mist, his staff tapping once, twice. "Enough," he said, his tone warm and final, the ice gleaming under the sunrise. "Bhima, five strikes, resilient and warm. Duryodhana, one, stubborn and fierce."
Bhima lumbered off the ice, his grin wide as he wiped frost from his hands. "Five's my crown!" he said, his voice loud and cheerful, clapping Duryodhana's back with a thud. "I'm a glacier! You're tough, cousin!"
"Tough's a start," Duryodhana said, his voice low and sharp, shrugging off Bhima's hand as he trudged away. "Next time's mine."
Arjuna set his mace down, his breath steady, his smile warm and quiet as he glanced at the frozen lake. "That was alive, guru," he said, his voice soft and honest, rubbing his arms. "Ice fights back."
"Fights and teaches," Drona replied, his pride clear, nodding at him through the mist. "You all learned. Bhima most."
Bhima laughed, his voice booming as he stretched his arms, his tone bright and teasing. "Most?" he said, grinning wide. "I'm king of this freeze! We're champs, huh?"