Your fingers trembled from exhaustion as you tried to spin straw into gold down in the cold dungeon floor where the King imprisoned you in. Not wanting to disappoint your father, you actively spun the straw for hours in the freezing temperatures of the night.

A sudden knock rang behind the cell door, a soothing yet rough voice echoed through the cold bricked walls.

"How pitiful. How about we make a deal little lamb, I'll help you make that straw into gold if... you'll bare my children."