It is widely known that Christmas time (or Yule/Solstice/Saturnalia/quite frankly any holiday that occurs in the winter months) is—notoriously—a terrible time for turkeys.
However, this turkey was having a worse time than most. And that was really saying something.
It had managed to escape the goblin castle by the scruff of its neck—no small feat considering the weapon-wielding mob that had kidnapped it from its home on an upstate turkey farm—but its pursuers' cries and hollers were still echoing behind him as it flapped and squawked down stone corridors.
It ran left.
It barrelled right.
It flapped panicking in a circle and then stopped to peck at the ground for a brainless moment until another yell of "That'n way!" startled it back into movement. Its feet peddled in comically ineffectual circles until its talons got a grip on the icy cobbles and it sped off down another labyrinthine avenue.
It fluttered into a dim cave, lit by glowing torches ensconced in the wall.
"...Gobble?" it pondered, and fluffed its feathers before hopping further in. It scratched and pecked its way down until it was in a narrow corridor lined with stone faces.
"Danger! Turn Back!" cried one of the faces.
"BA-GOBBLE!?" shrieked the turkey, ricocheting off another face in shock as it scrambled down the tunnel.
"Turn back! Turn back!" shouted another.
"Ahead lies peril!" bellowed a third before taking a rocky double-take. "Blimey, is that a turkey?"
"Cawp!" screeched the turkey, and pecked the face on its granitey nose.
"Argh! Definitely a turkey!" sputtered the rock face.
The turkey was about to rear back for a second assault when the sound of goblin shouting filled the tunnels.
"THIS'N WAY! IT'N WENT DOWN THAR!"
"GET IT!"
"IT!"
The turkey screamed and darted off deeper into the tunnels, ignorant to the churning, scraping, metallic noise that was reverberating off the stone walls from up ahead.
"Stop! Take heed!" cried another rock face, unintentionally startling the turkey into the intersection—
And out under the spinning wall of death that was The Cleaners.
It exploded rather spectacularly (and—thankfully—-somewhat painlessly) in an eruption of gore and feathers just as its goblin pursuers rounded the corner.
"Ugh," grunted Dîakon from the tunnel's arch, throwing down the cleaver he'd been waving as The Cleaners carried on clanking down to the right. "Damn fing."
The mass of goblins behind him deflated in disappointment.
"We godda get anuvver?" asked MiraBêaü behind him, picking at her sharp teeth with her dagger and nudging the flattened red streak that was their latest turkey with the side of her foot.
"Aye," Îlka confirmed with a huff.
"Back up'n?" enquired Haílstöne, lowering his mace despondently.
"Aye," Îlka said again with a deeper huff, his spiked helmet sagging over his eyes.
"Cheer up," Dîakon commiserated, patting his enormous friend on the back as the hoard turned around to walk back the way they'd come. "Fird time's ther charm."
"Charm," grumbled Rudolfë and Rido in unison.
The castle grounds were a riot of magenta, pale green, and white; fluttering bunting in every radish hue strung from wall to wall—and roof to roof—of the Goblin City. Bustling goblins moved through the streets in their usual tight-packed malignancy, their chatter barely stalling upon Sarah and Jareth's arrival in the castle's archway.
The icy air was filled with a crisp, slightly spicy scent, and ornate sculptures crowded every conceivable inch; along walkways and windowsills, on top of high walls and low roofs, leaving a winding path that meandered around and through scenes and figures, castles, and monsters, damsels and dragons and goblins all carved and constructed… from radishes.
"You really weren't kidding about Night of the Radishes," Sarah chuckled as Jareth took her hand.
"I really wasn't," Jareth replied, linking his ungloved fingers between hers and smiling at her with such joy that it gave his chiseled face an air of perpetual youthfulness. Despite the frigid air, the feeling of skin on skin had been something neither one had wanted to relinquish.
"Come along, Champion," he directed, tugging her down the castle steps towards the festival grounds. "We have to see them all."
"All of them?" Sarah asked, taking in the seemingly endless sea of red that stretched for what looked like miles. "It'll take hours!"
"Indeed. But I have to award a prize at the end of it, so it's only fair. You can help me pick the winner."
There were—unsurprisingly—an enormous amount of Jareth sculptures. His sweeping cape was recreated from sliced radish discs layered to give a whirlwind effect, enormous radishes elegantly carved in his likeness, as shards of radish fronds framed his face. Whole avenues of Radish-Jareths (which privately in her mind Sarah dubbed Jaradishes).
She stopped to inspect one that was holding a beautifully spherical crystal balanced on a fingertip.
"What about this one?" she called over to Jareth who was inspecting a scene in miniature of a famous goblin riot.
"Hmm," he hummed, as he considered the sculpture Sarah was gesturing to as though she was a car show model. "No… they've made my chin too wide."
"Vain." Sarah poked him hard in the chest. "That one then!" she exclaimed, dragging him to another Jaradish being admired by a small goblin congregation cackling quietly. This one was majestic, regal, dignified… from the waist up. From the waist down he sat atop puffy feathers and hooked owl feet, one talon raised as though on a march.
"Absolutely not," grunted Jareth as Sarah snickered. "I may have the artist bogged."
But Sarah was already off, hysterically giggling at another sculpture. "Oh my God, this one!" she guffawed. "It has to be this one! We have a winner!"
Jareth strode to her side and looked down to where she was pointing. Rolled his eyes.
On a wonky house step sat a radish with a face carved into it. A pathetically minimalist face; two dots and a tiny jolly smile gave the radish a quizzically dopey countenance. A mockery of the elaborate complexity of its neighbors.
"I believe you are deliberately trying to subvert the seriousness of the holiday," he said, glaring as Sarah dissolved into a bout of fresh laughter.
"It's my favorite," she argued as she caught her breath, wiping a tear out her eye. "They've really captured your likeness—" he shoved her, lips tightening in an amused scowl as he waved her down another lane. "—Your beauty!" she threw back over her shoulder, ducking as he hurled a handful of snow at her.
She spun expertly with snow already balled in her hand and lobbed it back. It exploded against his shoulder in a glittering powdery puff.
His nostrils flared as he brushed the snow off his coat and out of his hair, a wicked glint twinkling in his eyes. "If I catch you, there will be consequences for that," he growled.
Sarah screeched as she ducked an even larger snowball, and took cover behind an impressive radish statue of a Rockcaller cradling a swaddled armful of pebbles like the Virgin Mary. Jareth's snowball hit it on the arm where it burst above her head, and she scrambled up, lobbing another handful of snow at him before she was off, tripping over her own feet and cackling with laughter.
She dodged and weaved and occasionally had to leap over radish figurines and small goblins as she evaded Jareth's onslaught, stopping whenever there was a suitably large sculpture to crouch behind and retaliate.
The sounds of his footsteps behind her in chase spurred her on, nearly slipping on the icy cobbles as she ducked into an alley only a couple feet taller than herself, edging between two huge sculptures of twin Fiery's that towered above her. She dropped to a crouch and gathered as much snow as possible into her bare, frozen hands, and when she thought she heard his approach hurled the ball of snow.
It squarely hit a large rubbery-faced goblin on the nose. It sputtered as it wiped the snow out of its eyes. Sarah froze.
"Oh! Sorry!" she called out to the cursing goblin, shaking its fist as she re-hid. She scooped up another handful of powder and peered out from around the Fiery's gangly arms waiting for Jareth's appearance.
"Boo."
Warm breath tickled her ear and she gasped, dropping the snow as she spun round into Jareth's arms suddenly caging her in against the alley wall.
"Caught you," he purred.
"Cheat," she said, grinning as she reclined against the brick, her breathing ragged and heart still hammering.
"Only when it's worth the risk," he countered, leering with dark intentions as she struggled to catch her breath from the chase.
"That trick is getting old—"
Sarah squeaked with indignation as he discourteously sank his lips against hers, but kissed him back harder as she heaved air in through her nose. Her hands found their way onto his hips, encouraging him into her, welcoming the way his frame pinned her against the alley wall as his tongue teased the seam of her lips. She parted, widening the kiss, tilting her head into his as her hands inched inwards underneath his coat, teasing up the hem of his shirt as he tangled his tongue over hers—-
Jareth roared into her mouth as she flattened her frozen fingers onto the flesh of his back, crushing her harder against the bricks at her back.
"Wicked girl," he hissed, yanking her hands away. "Shall I reciprocate?"
He moved both of her wrists into one hand and stretched them up above her head. Dark eyes didn't leave hers as he reached his free hand up to the snow-covered roof of the goblin house she was leaning against, and sank his fingers into it.
"No, no-" pleaded Sarah, wriggling in his grasp as he tightened the hand on her wrists, giggling helplessly. "No, no no—"
Frozen fingers grazed her waist outside of her sweater, but even through her clothes, she could feel how cold his hand was.
"No, Jareth!" she laughed, struggling fruitlessly as he bunched up her layers of clothing, fingernails scraping her stomach as he exposed her bare skin. "Please—" she was cut short by her own shriek as he pressed an icy hand over her ribcage.
She tried to lurch sideways away from his fingers but he pinned her harder with his hips, trapping her as he caressed lower, down onto the sensitive plane of her stomach, earning another scream of protest. He stroked lower still until his thumb brushed across the button of her jeans.
"Villain," Sarah growled, but couldn't stop a grin from spreading across her face.
Jareth smirked. "What a delightful pet name you have for me, precious," he replied as he popped the button open and edged down the zipper. "I must say, I'm enjoying living up to your expectations of me far more this time."
Cool fingers slid beneath the waistband of her underwear and Sarah drew in a ragged breath as he cupped her fully, his middle finger seated between her folds. It took mere seconds for his skin to warm against hers but she was writhing against his grip even before he pressed deeper. He teased her open, and Sarah's cheeks blazed at the wanton wetness pooling there in anticipation.
"Fuck—Jareth—" Sarah choked, legs shaking, threatening to collapse. He must've noticed as he slid his thigh up to her core, supporting her as she bowed towards him. He hummed a purr of appreciation, his forehead pressing against her temple as her eyes closed.
"I'll never get enough of you," he sighed as two digits brushed her core; once…twice…spreading her need up to her clit and down again in languid strokes before sinking his digits deep into her. A low, obscene groan tumbled from Sarah's throat and he silenced it with his lips over hers, devouring her with a ferocious kiss as his fingers curled and found a ripple of nerves that had her thighs pinching shut around his leg, muscles quivering.
"God," Sarah breathed out as he released her for air, and let her head fall back against the brick as she caught her breath.
As his fingers stroked possessively along her fluttering muscles, the heel of his hand grazed her clit, pressing into her in tight circles as his other hand held her wrists in a tourniquet grip.
He dipped his mouth to her throat and kissed his way up to her ear.
"You're shivering," he noted, and it was true; she was—but not from the cold.
"I am," she agreed, leaning her head against his as her hips rolled against his hand.
"Close?" he whispered and she nodded desperately. He crooked his fingers into a tighter curl and Sarah gasped at the same time his teeth sank into her neck, pinning her still as he pumped cruelly into her. She fractured with a suppressed howl, conscious that if she didn't stifle the scream in her throat the entire kingdom would be keenly aware of their sheltered exploits.
He held his hand still as her muscles gripped his fingers, letting her ride the wave before the burn dimmed and left her weak-limbed. He released her wrists and she slumped into his embrace.
"What a work of art you are," Jareth purred against her neck, laying a reverent kiss against her pulse point, another beneath her ear. She felt his lips pull into a grin and turned to face him as he nodded towards the sculptures beyond the Fiery radish guards at the alley's entrance. "Perhaps I should commission a piece-," he nudged her nose with his as he pulled his fingers back, squeezing gently as she let out a weary exhale, "-of you just like this."
He laughed as she reached up to gather a handful of snow and cuffed him with it, laughing with him before he muffled her lips with his own.
