Cindera the Red Wyrmling

You awake on a cold stone floor, you start by pushing yourself up onto your feet only to immediately lean forward and catch yourself on your hands. Strange, it feels more natural like this, on all fours. As you effortlessly stalk around this chamber, you begin to notice a few strange muscles you didn't have control over before.

Finally looking down at yourself, you notice red scales covering your entire body and that your hands look much closer to claws. With dread and pride you realize that you are no longer human and are much closer to what many would consider a dragon.

You attempt to breathe fire to illuminate the chamber around you, but find you are currently unable to generate a flame. Though, seeing as your vision in darkness has been greatly enhanced you are able to perceive the stone pit around you and the iron mesh at it's entrance.

"Are you sure he's secure in this form?" you hear the voice of Vlad, one of your generals, says from above, out of view.

"As secure as you can expect," you hear an unfamiliar feminine voice respond.

"And the fire?" he asks.

"So long as you avoid feeding them those herbs I warned you about, nary a flame should be seen."

"And the magic and shapechanging?"

"Just avoid any exposure to magic and neither of those abilities should develop."

You flare your wings in anger as you shout in a voice partway between a woman's and a beast's, "Release me at once!"

"Now, Cindera, why would your new owner do that?" the woman responds with absolute smugness.

"Agreed, a wyrmling is an incredibly valuable, especially for a newly made king trying to stabilize an old conqueror's dominion," Vlad adds.

You give out a purely beastial roar at the pair, only for them to laugh you off and eventually exit your chamber.

Days, that turn into weeks, that turn into months, pass you by in this prison cell. You explore every inch of this tiny cube and find no weakness even for your draconic strength, young as it may be. Eventually, you manage to stretch your wings and fly up to the metal mesh only for their to be no weakness or hole large enough for you to squeeze through. Your meals are bland, tasteless, and delivered via basket and rope.

After a year in this pit, your caretaker takes pity on you and offers to see if they can get you any sort of personal affects.