Adrien was, in every aspect, from every angle, a prince. He was born a prince, and knowing his father, he'd probably die a prince and be outlived by the king.

Gabriel was, in every aspect, from every angle, a king. He was born into royalty, and had that posh, unapproachable aura befitting of his title. He didn't speak to his son much, but that didn't seem to bother him. But today, he had business concerning his son.

The candidates were lined up in the courtyard, ready for whatever challenges would define their selection. The we're looking for a bodyguard, a quick witted soldier with superior fighting ability and reflexes, in case of an assassination attempt. They were all strong soldiers, from rich families. Unsurprisingly, they were all male. At first glance.

"Max, from the house of Kanté!"

"Present!"

"Nathaniel, nephew of Lord Kurtzburg!"

"Present!"

"Ivan, from the Bruel family!"

"Present."

"And, lastly, Marin, nephew of Lady Dupain-Cheng!"

"Present."

The four young 'men' stood silent, their privileged upbringing straightening their backs, stiffening their shoulders.

"You all know why you are here." Growled the old man who had been calling the register. "I am Lord Damocles, and I will be overseeing your selection process for the position of the prince's personal soldier and bodyguard. Understood?!"

He snickered a little as he glanced at Marin. What a scrawny little skeleton of a man. So short, too!

Nathaniel and Max were quaking in their boots in the presence of this intimidating man. Ivan and Marin stood firm as mountains.

"Alright then! For your first exercise, I am going to pair you up and I will observe a sword duel between the pair. Kanté, you're against Bruel. Kurtzburg, you're with Cheng. Bruel, Kanté, I'll watch you first."

Marin and Nathaniel walk calmly to the side, and stand out of the way.

It's an absolute massacre.

Ivan is about two heads taller and two heads wider that Max, and within five powerful stroked from Bruel, Max's sword is tangled in a nearby hedge, having flown out of his hand in seconds. His intelligence is his strongpoint. Not his brute strength. Max flounders to explain this, but he is silenced by the sharp raising of a hand, and Lord Damocles' yell for him to leave.

So now it's their turn.

The two onlookers take the centre stage, the redhead quivering ever so slightly.

Not a hair on Marin's body twitches.

He lowers his head, an ominous glint in his usually soft eyes.

"Don't hate me for this…" He mutters, under his breath, "I'm here for a reason."

"Sorry, what did you say? I didn't quite catch tha-"

Kurtzburg didn't even hear a whisper of a footstep.

In a red and black blur, Nathaniel's sword had been flicked out of his hand, only to be caught by the sweetly smiling young man in the red and black suit.

"I believe that concludes the match, doesn't it, my Lord?"

Lord Damocles stood, wide eyed with shock, mouth gaping open.

Concluded? That match hadn't even started! If you can even call that a match! That was a one sided annihilation, cleanly and precisely executed.

Another stood in shock, watching from his lonely window like a princess in a tower.

"A-Alright, well. Line up, all three of you. Next, we have a test involving reflexes… Every thirty seconds, stone will be thrown by one of the guards that are positioned secretly around the entire courtyard, whichever is nearest. If you get hit, you're out. The stones have ink on, so you'll be able to tell. Begin!"

The sudden start threw Nathaniel into panic. He began to run as fast as he could around in circles, not knowing where the stones would come from. Ivan had a delayed reaction. It was obvious he wasn't too smart. He began copying Nathaniel, just a tad slower due to his size. Marin just stood there, blank of all emotions, not even blinking, trying to hone in on the whereabouts of the nearest guard in the bushes.

The thirty seconds was up. Three stones were thrown.

One hit Ivan in the back of the head, another whizzed past Nathaniel's arm as he leapt to the side, the third flew through an empty space, where a Marin once stood.

But where was Marin now?

Standing thirty centimetres away from a rustling bush, glaring down at the man who threw the stone.

The stone aimed at Marin (without its intended collision) clipped at Nathaniel's ankles, who, having already relaxed, was infuriated to find that he had been hit.

Marin chuckled to herself. Really? One round? Is that all they could manage? Poor things…

"Marin is victorious, yet again. Now, for the final examination of your skills, we are doing hand to hand combat. Kurtzburg, I'm not even going to let you do this one. Go home."

He thought to himself. 'Now now, Mr Cheng. Hand to hand combat? Let's see if we can catch out Mr Perfect…"

Marin was small and skinny. Ivan was large and tough. It a glance, it was obvious who would win.

"Ok. Go!" Lord Damocles cried, his hand flying into the air to emphasise his point.

Ivan began to run towards Marin like a bear. He attempted to punch her, but to no avail. She dodged him, left right and centre, until his breaths were uneven and his posture was slouching.

With a powerful twist, Marin spun his slender leg into the air, wiping out the giant of a man in one, sharp, blink-and-you'll-miss-it kick to the head.

Marin smiled as he toppled over. Martial arts were next to never used by Parisian knights, which meant Marin's Asian heritage gave an advantage.

Marin smiled. Men were so foolish. Nobody had even questioned why her skin was so nice, why she was so short and slim. Marinette Dupain-Cheng walked over and retrieved her sword. It's funny, how they'll just let her into the palace, just like that. She guessed that the nobles in this country were blinded by strength. Her power distracted from the fact that everything they thought they knew was an intricately crafted lie. How cute.

(Yes lol THIS IS NOT A GENDERBEND PEOPLE yeah you heard me, she's faking being a man called Marin. Just to clear that up, sorry if you worked that out for yourself)