I have to remind myself that my friends liking this and me needing to fill my account a bit are good enough reasons for uploading this. Yes.
This was a terror for me to write, honestly. I don't mind TenRose [ though i highly prefer ninerose ] but it was requested as a high craving by a friend - and I'm happy to respond to desperate pleas, except ... I really can't write Rose. atall.
So I turned to Ten's pov which might not be entirely accurate either but, ah, at least it's better.
hopefully.

Enjoy! [ ? ]

IN THE BLUE, BLUE TOWER
[ tenth | rose ]

He is the Doctor, and he has millions of stories to share.
He is the teller of folklore within the village, the bard in the castle, the legend passed down and passed on except not for he witnessed it and he's still here – he's seen all, from the rose – tinted dawn to the wine – colored sea ( ' are you Homer? ' he's asked sometimes, and then he just, all too knowingly, grins ) and he relays his adventures and his sights to others so they too may enjoy without a box of blue and marriage traditions to call their own.
Except, when he tells them, they often mingle up.
He knows centuries of myths and fairytales along all he himself witnessed and within a mind hurtling faster than in the Earth in pure chaos, thought and love, it all blends up to brief oral novels where Snowwhite sleeps within the thorned castle for she turned away the old haggard woman on her doorstep.
She asks him around bedtime, still, because he likes to piece and hold the shards together with her for his intertextual glue.
" Rose Tyler, " He'll begin, and she'll sit back as he does his prance – about, needing more limb than just hands to emphasize his story, and he tells her about the miller's daughter rumored to weave straw into gold but she can't and so in comes the imp ( he pulls down at his own triangle pixie – chin here as his face tears open in a smile ripping right into the wide open eyes of the brown – clad hasty – tongued magician ) and – " – WHAM! "
After the clap he raises his arms and softly wriggles his fingers in a downward motion of glittering faedust, gaze now right on hers, and he recounts " – and he weaves you. "

And he tells her what quests she'll take, what paths she'll go, the girl with golden hair and eyes of amber, even more exhilarated by the prospects than they excite her, because she can still sit in the stool with legs curled up and hug herself to keep from bursting every whichway in laughter, moreso than she already is, but he jumps and he dances and tells her of Goldilocks and the three bears – no no no no wait not bears it's cats and cat – nuns! – and how she beats off ghosts and werewolves and even the devil himself for the sake of children who are later told these tales by parents for which she'll always be the light of their lives, along the road, in their eyes —
Then he stops, behind console glass, in their copper, yellow room, and he's quiet, almost inaudible, when he tells her " and there was one man who got too close and very blinded and then did not know what to do. "

It hangs thickly upon her tongue, the silence, and not what she hoped would come, but before he can even scrape his toecaps to the grated iron she scratches her bottom lip with teeth and an uneasy inhale, and then answers – " Y'know, Doctor … it's this fairytale, 'bout … 'bout a blind prince … "
They both come to stand, eyes meeting and sizzling through the blue, still column, and she doesn't know how he manages to make himself speak for there's no breath left in his voice. " … Rapunzel. Falls out the tower, hears her voice, comes back, is healed. Rapunzel let your hair down. "
She does.
She unclips her bangs from the top of her head and uncertainly inches in because he's not actually handicapped and open and looking at her with all of his being, and she bows her head for the blonde to fall about ( will you take it, too? ) and tells him, cheek sucking in and out, " no crying tonight " , before she sets a hand over the wildly stirring brown stare he's giving her, vision restored, and then gently cranes her head up.
Kisses fix most everything in fairytales, but she hopes his stay garbled up, at least.