When their carriage was attacked that morning, Dirk was surprised, though as First Knight, certainly not unprepared. While heavily outnumbered, he was able to vanquish most of his foes with ease.  Unfortunately, some of the giddy-goons were able to abduct Daphne.  After making sure Bagstock, their carriage-man and friend, was okay, and interrogating one of the surviving goons,  Dirk was off to the Count's hideout in Scorpion Swamp.  

His first clue that something  was  really wrong was when he ran into a couple of Malthius's guards fleeing from their boss's lair.  The scrawnier one even gave Dirk his keys and told him to hurry.  The next clue was worse.  Once he entered the tower, he could hear the echo of a woman's high-pitched, agonized screams.  He rushed up the spiral staircase, praying it wasn't  his wife that he heard, but knowing in his heart that it was.  

Once Dirk reached the door at the top, unlocked it,  and burst through, he was stunned.  Daphne had been kidnapped before, but he always found her in time.  Sometimes she was held in a cage, sometimes she was in a big bubble, but he always found her unharmed.  This was different.  What he saw now, filled him with rage.

Daphne, unconscious,  was stretched  on a rack. Her dress was torn, exposing  her bare breasts; metal clips clamped to her nipples.  Worst of all, her feet were a bloody mess, appearing as if  Malthius had damn near flayed the skin off, then used them as pin cushions. And there he was, the "Count",   approaching  her with a hot poker.  

"WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE TO MY WIFE!?" Dirk roared.

"H-How did you survive?",  stammered the Count.  But Dirk wasn't  interested in conversation.  He charged, aiming to cleave Malthius's head from his body.  As the valiant knight brought his sword down, the Count, an expert swordsman himself, parried with the poker.  Dirk countered  with a stabbing maneuver  toward the villain's heart.  Malthius dodged, then brought the poker down on Dirk's right arm, forcing the knight to drop his sword.  

"Look at you!", gloated the Count.  "The great 'Dirk the Daring'!  And yet you were unable to save your one true love!  But first, I'm going to enjoy watching you…"

Before he could finish that statement, Dirk punched Malthius in the face as hard as he could, knocking him out cold.  The knight picked up his sword , but just as he was about to deliver the killing blow, he heard a low groan from behind.  Daphne!  She was his top priority.  Malthius could wait.

Dirk cut through Daphne's bonds, relieving the tension in her limbs.  Next, he removed the clamps from her nipples.  The sudden return of blood flow brought fresh pain,  eliciting another groan from the half-conscious Princess.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, struggling to control his emotions.

Finally, he turned his attention to his wife's damaged feet.  Her wounds weren't nearly as bad as he had originally feared, but removing the needles would be a delicate job.  Slowly,  and as gently as possible, he pulled them out, one by one,  causing her to groan in more pain.   As he was removing the last one, she cried out: "Please don't hurt me anymore!"  The child-like tone in her voice broke his heart, and he finally broke down.

"I'm sorry, Daphne," he sobbed, tears forming in his eyes.  "I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you."

"Dirk?" On hearing his voice, the Princess's  eyes fluttered open. "DIRK!" Before he could react, she threw herself at him.  Daphne wrapped her arms around her husband as tightly as she could and gave him one of the deepest, most passionate kisses they'd ever shared.  After a long moment, Dirk broke off .

"Are you okay?"

"Am I okay? What about you? I thought you were dead!"

"Come on,  you know it'll take more than a few giddy-goons to take me out," Dirk replied, attempting, but failing, at a cocky smirk.  "But, your feet…"

"They hurt like hell, but I think I'll live," trying to downplay her own pain.  

"Alright, just lay down,  I need to clean your wounds."  Looking around, Dirk noticed  the bucket of drinking water near the stocks where Daphne's nightmare began, and retrieved it.  He tore off part of his tunic, dipped it into the water, and began to clean her feet, relieved to see that her wounds were largely superficial.

"Just think, ordinarily, this would be foreplay," she joked.

Dirk burst out laughing, and Daphne joined him.  The fact that somehow, even after this horrific experience,  this beautiful angel could still hold on to her sense of humor, filled his heart with joy.

"Daphne, do you have any idea how much I love y…"

Suddenly, Dirk was knocked out by an iron poker hitting him upside the head.  

"You certainly know how to pick them," gloated Malthius as Daphne gasped at the sight of  the Count  triumphantly standing over her unconscious husband.  "I'm actually happy Dirk survived, just so I can enjoy the look on your face as you watch him die!"

Malthius's smug face filled Daphne with rage.  She jumped on him, raining punches on the Count.  Malthius, however, merely laughed at the weak blows, then casually tossed her to the side.

"Now watch, your Highness, as your husband dies,"  he crowed, taking Dirk's sword from it's sheath.  Daphne, desperately searching for something to save Dirk, saw the bucket of lard.  Mustering all of her will, the Princess rose to her wounded feet, and grabbed the bucket.  Ignoring the blinding agony in her soles, she stumbled toward the vicious monster and dumped the bucket on his head.

"YOU SILLY, STUPID CUNT!",  bellowed the enraged Count, his head covered in lard.  For Daphne, there was no mistaking the look in his eyes: he meant to murder her.  

Malthius grabbed the Princess by the throat and slammed her against the wall.  

"So that's how you want to do this?  Okay you little blonde bitch; then that's how we'll do this."

Daphne, in desperation, grabbed the torch to her right, and swung it at the Count's head.  To their mutual surprise, the flame ignited the lard!

"AAAAAARRRRRRGHHH!,"  Malthius screamed, letting go of Daphne.  In his mad panic, unsuccessfully trying to beat the flames out with his hands, he tripped over the bucket of water, spilling the one thing  that could have helped him.  Malthius  scrambled to his feet again and ran for the door, disappearing down the spiral staircase, the flames growing hotter with his every stride.   

Daphne, having collapsed to the floor, crawled to her husband's side.

"Dirk," she whispered, shaking him, tears in her eyes. "Please wake up."

The knight groaned, then opened his eyes.

"Daphne…what happened? Did I save you?" he asked groggily.

"Actually, Dirk, I think this time, I saved you," she smiled, holding his head in her lap.  

"Malthius!,"  he exclaimed, finally getting his bearings.  "Where's Malthius?"

"We don't have to worry about him, now.  I doubt we'll have to worry about  him for a long time."

With that, they rested; holding each other; gathering their energies for the long journey home.