The Doctor looked around the room again, in case he had missed any obvious means of escape. The door was still deadlocked, the window was still too far above the ground, and the walls were still made of annoyingly solid stones. Well, at least that had given him something to focus on for a few minutes. The worst thing about being locked in a prison awaiting execution was the boredom. He really was quite spectacularly bored.
He sat on the uncomfortable bed and started writing the greatest novel of all time in his head. This turned out to be far less interesting than he'd hoped. He sighed.
At last, an event! He jumped to his feet and ran over to the window. He looked down at the distant ground and saw Romana climbing off a white horse. Ah, she had come to rescue him. That had certainly taken her long enough. Not that he was complaining. At least not to her face.
“Doctor, let down your scarf!”
He stared down at her. “What?”
“Your scarf,” she repeated. “I'm going to use it as a rope.”
That wasn't the worst idea he'd ever heard, but “You'll stretch it.”
“Well, would you rather die?”
He thought about it seriously. He loved his scarf, and he'd probably regenerate when they killed him, but what if he turned into someone who didn't love the scarf? He'd feel tremendously stupid then, wouldn't he, wasting a regeneration for a scarf he didn't even like any more. He called down to Romana. “All right, but I'm not happy about it.”
He threw one end of the scarf out of the window and tied the other around a handy chair. He waited while Romana scaled the outside of the tower, offering occasional words of encouragement. Finally she reached the window and he pulled her inside. He pulled the scarf back up and began to examine it for damage.
Romana brushed dirt from her clothes. “Right,” she said, “I'll teleport us back to the palace.” She produced a fancy-looking bracelet from her pocket.
The Doctor stared at her. “Why didn't you just teleport up here in the first place?” he asked.
“I thought this would be more romantic.” She pushed a stray bit of dark hair away from her eyes. “You're always complaining that I'm not romantic enough.”
“All I meant was that I'd appreciate the occasional bouquet!”
She shrugged. “Well, you didn't specify, did you? I'm not a mind-reader, you know.”
“We can argue about this later,” said the Doctor, “let's get back to the evil queen.”
Romana nodded and held up the teleport bracelet. She frowned. She held it up to her ear and shook it.
“Why are you doing that?” asked the Doctor, with a horrible sinking sensation.
“It must have broken on the way up. Listen, the battery's come loose.”
He waved it away. “So now we're both stuck in this tower, and all because you wanted to make a romantic gesture.” He shook his hair emotively. “You know, sometimes you can be very irritating.”
She raised a perfectly-groomed eyebrow. “And goodness knows you're the expert on being irritating.”
“This isn't about me!” he spluttered.
“That makes a change.”
The Doctor held up his hands. “Can we focus on getting out of here?”
Romana sat down on the edge of the bed. “If only K-9 were here.”
“It's not his fault he had to stay in the TARDIS,” said the Doctor, “he can't do terrain,”
“Maybe I can fix this teleporter,” said Romana, without much optimism. “I got very good marks at the academy for electrical engineering. Unlike some people,” she added, spitefully.
“That was uncalled-for!”
She held out a hand. “Sonic screwdriver, please.”
He handed it over petulantly. “Don't break that as well.” He moved to the window where he could look at the scenery and ignore Romana.
“Oh, look,” she said, lightly, “it's the Oncoming Sulk.”
“I'm not sulking, I'm surveying the area.”
“If you say so.” She fiddled with the bracelet while the Doctor tried to pretend he wasn't interested in what she was doing. “There,” she announced after a few tense minutes, “I've fixed it.” She stood and slipped it onto her wrist.
The Doctor slouched over to her. “I hope you've learned something from all this,” he said.
She took hold of his hand and set the coordinates. “Not especially.” She tugged at him. “Stand closer or you'll lose an arm.”
“Well, maybe I don't want both my arms.” But he moved nearer to her anyway.
“Now you're just being silly. Right,” she continued, all business, “you depose the monarchy and I'll free the political prisoners.”
“Just don't try to be romantic about,” said the Doctor, who wasn't one to let an argument go.
“Oh, romance is the last thing on my mind,” she assured him. She activated the teleporter.
And with that, they were gone.