For eighteen years that family went to court over a single acknowledgement. Delphine Boel wanted a court to state what Albert II of Belgium had kept quiet for half a century - that she is his daughter. In 2020 she got it. With it came the title of princess, the address „Her Royal Highness”, and the photograph with King Philippe, the half-brother who until then had acted as if she did not exist.

The heirs to that acknowledgement are two young people the Belgian public barely knows anything about. And this is where the story gets more interesting than the court case itself.

A king's granddaughter who spends the summer babysitting in Italy

Josephine is 22 and has just graduated in human rights from Leiden University - the oldest Dutch university, founded in 1575. She studied at its faculty in The Hague. She got her first work experience at the Palace of Fine Arts in Brussels and at the Red Cross in Mechelen, and the second, as her mother puts it, suited her most because it matches what she wants to do. Her aim is to go on as a lawyer in human rights and international law.

She does not spend the summer on a yacht. She works as a nanny in Italy and earns her own money. Her mother, Princess Delphine, says of her that she has a deep sense of justice and does not hesitate to raise her voice. It is hard not to notice where she learned that.

The grandson working in a supermarket this summer

Oscar came of age this year. He finished secondary school in Uccle, one of the most populous municipalities in Brussels, where the family lives. Instead of enrolling somewhere straight away, he is taking a gap year. His mother's reasoning is more comprehensible than most royal communiqués: it is better to discover the world first than to rush into a commitment he will later regret.

This summer he is working in a supermarket - the same one where his older sister worked the previous year. Next year he goes to Uganda as a volunteer, and he is also planning work at an international organisation.

Why this is a story at all

Because across Europe, royal grandchildren usually appear on balconies and at regattas, and their biographies start with private colleges. These two have the title but not the network that normally comes with it. Their mother's recognition came late, and with it came neither a court function nor a budget.

Delphine, for her part, never fitted into that protocol. She studied at Chelsea College of Arts in London, works as a sculptor, and on Belgium's National Day she turned up in a pink Barbiecore dress that part of the public declared inappropriate. Her answer was precise: she has no intention of stealing anyone's attention, and everyone seeks attention in their own way - King Philippe, for instance, has four wonderful children.

There is something healthy about a family with a title sending its children to a supermarket till and to Uganda instead of into a ceremonial court role. The question is whether that is a choice, or the consequence of the palace door having stayed only half open.