You run

Anything is better than being a **** girl. At least this man seems to acknowledge your royal eminence. No… Wait, he called a **** queen… not a king! You are about to object when he pulls you up a steep gambrel roof as arrows fill the air about you. You stumble on the shingles which hurt your bare feet.

“Hold your bows! You hit my ****!” You hear General Hrort yell and realise that your value as property remains in his eyes despite your lack of status in their eyes.

“Stop them! Twenty gold to the person that captures the little slut,” Lady Catherine cries shrilly, evidently unhappy that you have escaped her designs for you.

Your rescuer growls at your daintiness as he pulls you close with your leash then unceremoniously lifts you onto his broad shoulder. Prettily curved as high and nethers exposed for all below to see in the courtyard he carries you up the upward sloping ridge of the hipped roof then along the gargoyle decorated roofline, dodging smoking chimneys and loose mossy shingles. Then he leaps across an alley and into another roof.

It’s shameful how you cry out like a girl as you jounce and bounce in an ungainly fashion atop his broad muscular shoulder, naked breasts juggling and swaying heavily as you struggle to look up through the tresses of your long lustrous hair. “Where are you taking me knave!” You cry out.

“I can return you to the **** block if you wish your highness,” your saviour joke as he pats your bare ass condescendingly. “You did seem to be have a fun old time with that general and your former wife…” he laughs as he grabs another rope and swings.