This is the beginning of a very late birthday present for my friend Marjorie Nescio, who said, "Why not?" when I mentioned the possibility of a camping queen.

Van harte gefeliciteerd met je verjaardag! (Is that right?)

"Sure is a beautiful day out there, isn't it?"

"Mm-hmm."

"You know, Mama, I had a hard time coming inside. Victor had to convince me it was best."

"I'm sure." She sounded distracted, but Clarisse had to suppress a smile. The only person more persuasive than her younger son was her younger son's bodyguard. "Luckily for us, Victor understands the importance of solid education."

Philippe was sulking over his school books; she could hear it in his exaggerated sigh. "It's just that sometimes it's very satisfying to be out of doors. Sun on your face, wind in your hair. Close to the land. All that sort of thing."

The Queen finally looked up from her own work. She laid her glasses on the stack of papers she had been perusing and leaned back from her desk. "Alright, come out with it."

Philippe was very gifted at a great many things. Acting was not one of them. His eyes grew too wide and his tone was too innocent. "Out with what?"

"Stop talking like a pioneer forging a path through the wilderness, and tell me whatever it is you want to say."

Philippe's shoulders slumped. "You'll laugh," he mumbled.

"I will not, and please do speak clearly. Your argument will be more convincing if I can hear it."

"Well, it's my birthday in two weeks."

"Oh, is it?"

He rolled his eyes. "You know it is, Mama."

"No, I'd quite forgotten," she teased him.

"Anyway. As I was saying, it's my birthday, and I would like a present."

"Just one?"

"Yes, actually."

Now she was truly intrigued. Philippe had always embraced quantity over quality when it came to presents, whether giving or receiving. "Alright then. What would you like?"

"Keep in mind, it's an important one. After all, twelve is a milestone."

"Is it?"

"Last birthday before the teen years."

"Well, when you put it that way…"

Philippe took in a deep breath. "I'd like to go on a camping trip."

"Camping?" Clarisse was perplexed. "I don't see what the problem is. The lodge is already opened up for the summer season. We only need to let the housekeeper know -"

"Not the lodge, Mama," he interrupted in an effort to not lose his nerve. "I want to go camping. In a tent. Like, in a field or on the side of a mountain or...some such place."

"Camping." Clarisse rolled the word around her tongue, drawing out the two syllables thoughtfully. "I see," she said, even though she really didn't.

"Other boys go with their fathers all the time. I'm going to be twelve, and I've never gone even once."

The only thing that clearly presented itself to her was the idea of this being a father-son venture, and she seized it enthusiastically. "Then talk with your father about this. I'm sure he would love the opportunity to spend some quality time with you."

Neither of them had noticed Pierre's arrival until he responded for his brother. "Papa offered him the use of Genovia One instead. Thought he might round up a few of his closest friends and spend a long weekend in London or anywhere other than a meadow."

Philippe scowled at his older brother, who seemed rather amused as he leaned his long, graceful frame against the door jamb. "Go on and laugh, why don't you."

"I'm not laughing. Not much, anyway."

"I had to try."

"What did he end up saying?" inquired Clarisse.

"To ask you. So I'm asking."

Clarisse was quiet for a long moment. "I don't see the harm in it. Have you spoken with Victor yet?"

Philippe brightened, but tried to quell his hopefulness. Like acting, being cautiously optimistic was another of his weak points. "I can go ask now!"

"You may finish your homework now. You can speak with him afterward, and he and I can discuss it in further detail later."

"What about Pierre? He wants to go!"

Clarisse looked at the Crown Prince. "Do you?"

He shrugged. "Sure, why not? It's something new."

"In that case, I'll talk with Antoine as well."

"And Joe!" Philippe reminded her.

"Joseph? Why would I need to involve Joseph?"

"So they can plan together for all three of us!"

Clarisse paled. Pierre noticed. Philippe did not. "Er, the...three...of us?"

"Yes! Papa won't do it. I guess it's too plebeian for him. Probably for you, too, but one of you has to come with us!"

"Surely, you don't want your mother tagging along on your outdoor adventure for boys."

"Are you kidding?"

"No."

"It'll be a blast!" Then, before Clarisse could offer a rebuttal, the boy had sprung to his feet and sprinted halfway out of her office. "I really am done with my homework. Well, done enough. I'll go find Victor now. Come on, Pierre!"

"Just one thing, Philippe." He stopped in his tracks and spun back around. "What exactly inspired this idea?"

"It's just… I don't know. I want to do something...different." He avoided her eyes and dug the toe of one of his shoes into the oriental rug. "Something…-" He looked over his shoulder at his brother.

"I think," Pierre stated quietly, "Philippe would like to spend his birthday being the exact opposite of who he really is."

Although Philippe had hoped his brother would be able to verbalize his feelings, he was clearly concerned at the level of honesty Pierre had employed. Philippe's nervousness visibly increased.

"I see," Clarisse said, and this time, she did. Her heart ached for her sons, who had simply been born without having any say in their royal identity. "It's natural to want to try different things."

"Is it?" Philippe asked tentatively.

"Yes. In fact, it's a very admirable quality in a prince - the desire to see the world from different perspectives. To know what normal is to different people."

"Papa's normal is worlds away from the average Genovian's," Philippe said with something almost like awe.

Clarisse chuckled. "Your father's life experience is certainly not average. But," she pointed out gently, "neither is yours."

"I know."

She sensed his distaste at this, and had no idea what more to say, except: "Off with you both. Find your other halves."

Had Philippe stayed in her office, twirling a pen over his composition book, she would have had to remind him countless times to keep his focus. For this, she only had to tell him once.

She smiled after them. Then it was suddenly very quiet.

Too quiet. She could hear herself think again.

Camping. Oh, Lord. What had she gotten herself into?

to be continued...