Southern England
There was no shortage of noblemen along the way willing to house and feed the royal group, knowing it would fare well for them to accommodate the King's daughter. It was all the same to Joan who housed her. Many times, lords and ladies asked if she was excited about her marriage.
"Oh yes, very much," Joan said as if reciting a speech. It was the polite thing to say, and her hosts were satisfied. She talked about her beautiful wedding gown and how she would be a good wife and a good representative for England.
As she neared the last days on English soil, her youthful crush of the faceless Pedro based on his letters waivered. She couldn't help but worry if she didn't like him and he didn't like her, and how it wouldn't even matter, as their fate was predetermined. She would give her everything to try her best to like him, but her heart could feel otherwise.
Pedro seemed so sweet and charming and excited to meet her in his letters. Now that their meeting was imminent, she wondered if he had help writing the letters, maybe someone read them over or penned them entirely. Pedro's true nature would be a mystery to her until they were wed, and she was frightened about what wifely duty she was expected to do upon being alone the first time.
The retinue was on its final leg in England. John Bourchier had mostly respected her wish for silence in the carriage as worry swam through her stream of thoughts.
"Anything the matter, princess?" John asked after a few hours on the road.
"Why would something be worrying me?" Joan snapped.
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"You keep biting your nails," John said.
"I'm worried you cannot even defend me if we were attacked. Have you ever been to battle? Have you ever killed a man?"
"No," John admitted. "But it is my sworn duty to protect you, and I have trained to do exactly that." He pulled his sword from his scabbard. It glinted even in the low interior light. "Do not fear, my lady. I promise to keep you safe."
She thought to thank him but did not. He put his sword away. She was mad at her parents for sending her away and mad at Robert Bourchier for his tedious route through the countryside even though she knew it was likely on her father's orders and mad at John for being present when she should have been allowed to be alone with her thoughts.
"I am not afraid," she lied.
She wondered if King Alfonso and Queen Maria would like her like a daughter or regret the alliance and thus her presence in their country. She wondered if she could provide children, and if she would be hated if not. She had heard of men who took lovers and when kings did it, they were not discreet about it. King Edward had never (to her knowledge) bedded anyone but his wife, and their numerous children attested to a good, strong marriage. She didn't think she could bear it if she loved Pedro and Pedro loved another.
Could Pedro set her aside if she did not please him? Annul the marriage and send her to a nunnery or back to England in shame? Could she plead with the Pope to remain queen to a man who hated her? Was she at his mercy?
Surely by some point England would be such a distant memory to her that she wouldn't even want to return given the chance. She certainly didn't want to see her country under the rule of her brother, and she doubted she would even be welcomed by that time. Castile would be her only home for the rest of her life, and she didn't even know how she would like it.
"Your eyebrows are drawn closely together," John observed.
"I beg of you not to comment on my appearance nor my habits," Joan said. "Remember your place."
"My place is across from you until your journey is complete, my lady," John said.
Joan tried to think of a clever retort but couldn't. She crossed her arms. She could not confide in a soldier she just met, but she turned her focus on how to keep her face blank in front of him. It was a welcome distraction from her intrusive thoughts.