The guards, still reeling from what had just transpired, stood frozen. The golden chariot was gone, disappearing in a cloud of dust, leaving them stunned and helpless.

And then-realization struck.

"This... this was Rajkumar Arjun!" one of them gasped, his voice breaking through the silence.

The weight of those words sent a shockwave through the group.

Rajkumar Arjun.

A Kuru prince. A Pandava. The famed warrior of Gandiva.

And he had just taken they princess.

Without another word, the guard turned and ran, his heart pounding as he stormed into the grand halls of Dwarka.

The palace was alive with festivity. The Yadava warriors were gathered in celebration, golden goblets brimming with sura, laughter echoing against the towering marble walls.

And at the center of it all-Balram.

Clad in royal silks, his massive frame relaxed as he drank with his kin, the flickering lamps casting a golden glow over his broad shoulders.

But then-

The doors burst open.

"Mahabali Balram!"

The guard's voice, sharp and urgent, sliced through the merriment like a blade.

The hall fell into immediate silence. Every head turned, eyes narrowing at the intrusion.

Balram set down his goblet, his brows knitting together.

"What is it?" His voice was calm, but the weight behind it was unmistakable.

The guard struggled to catch his breath, but he knew there was no time for hesitation.

"Rajkumar Arjun-he... he has abducted Rajkumari Subhadra!"

A deafening silence followed.

And then-

A furious crash.

Balram's goblet shattered against the marble floor as he shot to his feet.

"WHAT?!"

The force of his voice sent a tremor through the room. The warriors stirred, hands instinctively reaching for their weapons.

"He-he overpowered us, Mahabali! We had no chance! His arrows rained upon us with such speed that we were helpless to stop him!"

But then balram eyes narrowed as he stepped forward, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade.

"How can you be certain?" he demanded. "Arjun is in exile. He has been wandering alone, unknown. He does not carry the name of Indraprastha anymore. How do you know it was truly him?"

The guards hesitated, but only for a moment.

One of them-an older warrior, his face lined with years of battle-stepped forward and bowed deeply.

"Mahabali," he said, his voice steady, "we know it was him. He may wear different robes, his hair may be unkempt, but no one can mistake the way he wields Gandiva. No one can bend that bow but him. The arrows rained down like fire from the heavens. The way they struck-no other archer could have done that."

The veins in balram arms tensed.

A silence fell over the hall.

Balram exhaled sharply, his fury still simmering, but his mind... his mind now accepted the truth.

It was Arjun.

And Arjun had taken Subhadra.

Balram's chest heaved, his eyes dark with stormy rage. His jaw clenched so tightly it seemed his very bones might crack.

"That Madhya Pandava dares-DARES-to set his foot on my head?!"

The entire hall roared with fury. Warriors unsheathed their swords, bows were drawn, and the air pulsed with the promise of vengeance.

"WAIT!"

Balram's voice boomed, commanding silence once more. His anger had not dimmed, but his warrior's instinct held firm.

"What are you all doing?" he growled. "Has Krishna said nothing? We act not in haste-we ask him first!"

At once, all eyes turned toward Krishna.

And there he stood, unmoved.

Unlike the storm that had erupted in the hall, Krishna remained untouched, his face serene, a soft smile playing at his lips.

Balram stormed toward him, his fury nearly tangible.

"Kanha!" he bellowed. "What is this?!"

Krishna tilted his head slightly, his gaze calm, unreadable.

Balram's rage only burned hotter.

"How can someone you call a friend BETRAY you like this? How dare he take Subhadra-OUR Subhadra-by force?!"

Krishna sighed, shaking his head.

"Dau," he said gently, "I do not believe Arjun meant to insult us."

Balram's nostrils flared. "Then what IS this if not an insult?!"

Krishna chuckled-light, effortless. The contrast against Balram's storm was almost taunting.

"Perhaps, Dau, Arjun believed that we Yadavas value Subhadra so highly that no dowry would ever be enough for her hand. Perhaps he thought we would never simply hand her over like a prize at a swayamvar."

Balram's fists tightened at his sides.

Krishna's voice, ever smooth, continued, "So, he chose another path-a path as bold as it is lawful."

The murmurs among the warriors grew. Doubt crept in through the cracks of their rage.

Krishna stepped forward, his gaze never leaving Balram's.

"Dau," he mused, "tell me-who among us would not wish for Arjun, the great warrior, as family? Were we not all eager to call him our own?"

A restless silence.

The warriors shifted, their fury tangled with an uncomfortable truth.

Balram exhaled sharply, his anger battling his reason.

Just then, Krishna turned toward the guards.

"You said Arjun stopped you with his bow, correct?"

The guards nodded quickly. "Yes, Dwarkadheesh!"

Krishna's eyes gleamed.

"Then tell me-if Arjun was using his bow... who was holding the reins of the chariot?"

A long pause.

The guards blinked. Then, realization struck like lightning.

"Rajkumari Subhadra," one of them murmured.

Shocked gasps rippled through the hall.

Balram's rage faltered, his mind racing.

Krishna chuckled softly, his voice almost teasing.

"See, Dau? If she was holding the reins, tell me-was she truly being abducted?please think again dau, there's no harm in bring them back and wed them here, it'll only bring us more joy, more happiness. "

Silence.

A silence so deep that even the festival outside seemed to hush.

Balram's hands clenched and unclenched. The fire in his eyes had not dimmed-but now, something else lingered beneath it.

A flicker of doubt.

A battle between fury and reason.

Finally, his voice, though strained, rang with finality.

"Satyaki, Kritavarma, Pradyumna-bring them back."

The three warriors exchanged glances before nodding.

As they mounted their horses and rode off, Balram crossed his arms. His expression was as firm as ever, but something-just something-had shifted.

Krishna, ever knowing, ever smiling, simply watched.

And somewhere beyond the walls of Dwarka- A golden chariot raced toward destiny.

To Be Continued...