The Goblin King and the Miller's Daughter Chap. I

The Labyrinth of London
A Sherlock/Labyrinth Crossover
The Goblin King and the Miller’s Daughter
Inspired By
“The Thin White Sleuth…”
By
Pika-la-Cynique


Warning: Just to warn you, this is a rather morbid story and at times may cause discomfort. During the time period, it would have been perfectly acceptable for a fourteen-year-old to get married. Also, there are some rather blasphemous things said by Joanna because she is mad at God for wiping out her family. If one cannot accept that I am writing this as a character and not as a personal view, please do not read this story. I in no way wish to offend you when it is within my power to warn you of such.

Chapter I: The Straw

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As the last few shovels of dirt were place on her father’s grave, Joanna finished off the last few stitches to repair her second youngest brother’s shirt. This was not quite accurate. Two-year-old Jareth was her only sibling. She would never think of him as anything but her second youngest brother, even if everyone else in the family was dead.

“Will Papa come back?” Jareth asked.

“I hope not. He would rather stink up the house,” Joanna said.

“Why?”

“Because he’s a rotting corpse.”

“Why?”

“Because he was killed by the Plague.”

“Why?”

“Because the sins of London spread to our village. I don’t know why. Anyway, he’s dead along with the rest of the family.”

“Why?

“Because God hates us.”

“Why?”

“Because He’s a bastard, that’s why.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Come on. I need to go make us something to eat. It’s so wasteful to sit out here. I miss the pits.”

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Joanna boiled the little bit of porridge that was left. She was careful not to burn it, as she would have to eat those pieces since Jareth was already wary of the food in the first place. She thought of any work she could do. With so many people dead, there was very little repair work on clothes she could do. She could not run her father’s mill. She had no other worthwhile talents. Yes, she could sing, but there was no honest work there. Everyone knew what singers did when they were not doing their “real” work. Everyone that was except her. She was merely told that they did, “things a little girl should not know”.

There was a knock at the door. “Jay, stay away from the fire. I need to answer the door.”

“All right,” Jareth said, rolling his little wooden balls across the floor.

Joanna opened the door and found William standing there. He was one of the village boys a few years older than her and rather mean spirited. She did not understand why he was there. She had not spoken to him in several months, since her family members started dying a little before William’s did.

“I can’t work the mill. What do you want?”

William looked her up and down like she was a particularly fine looking horse. “Your father is dead.”

“How clever of you to notice,” Joanna said, growing bored with the conversation.

“You need someone to look out for the business. You can’t run it.”

“Neither can you.”

“You need to give it to someone.”

“What do you want William? I don’t want to burn Jareth’s supper.”

William stepped closer, breaking some invisible barrier that made Joanna feel comfortable. “I could take ownership of it and let you have enough to live on.”

“Why? You can’t run the mill. I think you’re just greedy.”

William’s eyes suddenly flashed with anger and he pushed Joanna against the door. He held her wrists above her head and spoke into her ear. “Give me the mill now or I will give you nothing.”

“GET OFF ME! IT HURTS!” Joanna screamed.

Jareth suddenly ran over to where his sister was being held down. “Hey! We aren’t supposed to wrestle!” Jareth shouted. He started throwing his toys at William.

“Back off, Jareth!” William said. He pushed Joanna to the ground and grabbed Jareth’s wrists. “You little brat. Why are you hitting me?”

“You hurt Joanna,” Jareth said. He bit William’s hand.

William released Jareth for a moment before grabbing his small arms and tossing him across the room. He returned to Joanna. “You made your brother attack me.”

“Get off me,” Joanna said, calmer now, “If you don’t leave now, I will do something awful.”

William laughed. “Like what? You can’t even move right now.”

“I can make terrible things happen. I’m a witch you know.”

“A witch?”

“Yes. I just simply say four words and I can make awful, awful things happen.”

William twisted Joanna’s arm and made her scream.

“I wish that you would go away right now!”

William laughed. “That’s it?”

“That’s all I have to do,” Joanna said, her eyes tightly shut. She did not like when she had to say those words. Awful things did happen. The last time she said those words, it was to get rid of a girl who was throwing stick at her. A few hours later, Joanna’s oldest brother, Charles, had the first lump appear under his arm.

William was breathing by her ear but suddenly jumped up and started screaming. Scratches began forming on his skin and William ran out of the house, never to return.

Joanna pushed herself up, wincing as she put pressure on her wrists. Jareth ran up to his sister. “Are you hurt?” Jareth asked.

Joanna nodded, pulling some straw from her hair. “I will be all right, Jay. You?”

“My arms hurt,” Jareth said.

“Yes, William must have hurt your arms when he threw you.”

Jareth shook his head. “They’ve been hurting.”

Joanna froze. “Where?”

Jareth pointed to his underarm. “Here.”

Joanna’s hands shook as she helped her brother take off his shirt. She screamed and ran out of the house. “I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY! I DIDN’T MEAN IT! DON’T TAKE HIM! YOU TOOK EVERYONE ELSE! DAMN IT! HAVEN’T YOU TAKEN ENOUGH?”