A Rewrite Of Fate

May 17, 1985.

The grand oak doors of Windsor Castle creaked open, revealing the sprawling ballroom within.  The air buzzed with anticipation, a symphony of hushed whispers and clinking silverware.

Princess Diana, resplendent in a shimmering gown of ivory silk, felt the familiar tremor of nerves beneath the surface of her composure. 

This wasn’t just any party; it was a traditional house party at Windsor Castle that is always done in May that the Princess of Wales should participate in organizing it and participate in the party. She’d personally curated the guest list, a delicate dance of political alliances and social graces.

Her Royal Protection Squad bodyguard, stood discreetly behind her, his presence a silent reassurance amidst the swirling elegance. 

Captain Mark Phillips, Princess Anne's husband, stood a short distance away, engaging in conversation with Prince Philip, his expression a mixture of amusement and guarded observation.  Diana, the most famous woman in the world, became acutely aware of the multitude of eyes upon her. 

Some were filled with open admiration, others with a more probing curiosity.  A few bolder guests attempted to approach, but she accepted their advances with a charming smile and opening topics for them to discuss.

A squeal of delight broke through the polite hum of conversation. Diana spotted Sarah Ferguson, or Fergie as she preferred, her vibrant red hair a beacon amidst the sea of pastel gowns.

Relieved to see a familiar face in attendance, Diana excused herself, weaving gracefully through the crowd.  Reaching Fergie, Diana opened her arms for a hug, but Fergie, overcome with a mixture of excitement and nerves, instinctively curtsied.

Diana laughed, a genuine, unforced sound that rippled through the tense air.  “Fergie, don’t be ridiculous!” she said, playfully reprimanding her friend before pulling her into a warm embrace.

Fergie giggled, her eyes sparkling.  "I can't help it, Di! You're the future Queen!  What's a girl supposed to do?"  She playfully wiggled her eyebrows, her red hair bobbing with her movement.

Diana chuckled, the nervousness momentarily forgotten.  "So, how are you feeling?  This is quite the introduction to the royal family, isn't it?"

Fergie's playful demeanor faltered slightly.  "Honestly, Di, I'm terrified!  I'm going to meet the Queen Mother, the Queen...Andrew…Edward…" she whispered, her voice tinged with a mixture of awe and apprehension.

Diana’s smile softened. She recalled their first meeting at Cowdray Park, the vibrant energy of Fergie amidst the genteel atmosphere of the polo match. 

Fergie, the daughter of Prince Charles’s polo manager, had an infectious enthusiasm that Diana found both charming and comforting.

“How are they when spoken to?” Fergie asked nervously, already imagining when she's talking to them.

“They’re lovely, really,” Diana reassured her friend.

“Speaking of the Queen and the Queen Mother, where are they?” Fergie asked, looking around excitedly and nervously.

“Actually, they’re here in Windsor Castle.  They were helping me with the final arrangements like last minute decision about guests and many more. They'll join us after the royal siblings arrive from Buckingham Palace.” Diana explained, making Fergie nod in understanding.

Fergie, her eyes wide with nervous excitement, noticed a man standing silently behind Diana. "Who's that?" she whispered, her voice barely audible above the gentle murmur of the crowd.