Chapter Text
The wings have always been a part of Obi-wan, ever since he was born. In the creche, he was hardly the strangest one there, and his wings were small enough to hide under a tunic if he wanted. But they were all children, and his wings were more of a novelty than anything else. As he got older, it got harder to hide his wings, but he was okay with that. His age mates were used to them, and so were the masters and knights he saw on a regular basis. Sometimes he would walk past younger initiates, and they would openly stare at him, but Obi-wan figured he would have the same reaction if he saw someone with a set of limbs he didn't have.
It wasn't until he became a teenager that his wings became a hinderance. When he finally became a padawan, Qui-gon Jinn took his wings in stride, but Obi-wan never had any doubts about that. It was the lightsaber practice that gave him trouble. Because of his wings, Obi-wan's center had always been different than other people his age and height. But most forms of lightsaber dueling hand been made with the average four-limbed human or vaguely humanoid being in mind, not someone with extra appendages that would throw off his balance. So when the masters in charge of their class would teach them a new technique, Obi-wan would find himself loosing his balance and actively trying to keep his wings as close to himself as possible. He began to feel humiliated because of his wings. He started slipping in the rest of his classes too, and eventually it gained the attention of his master. Unfortunately, they were both stumbling along blindly, as Qui-gon had never had a padawan with wings, nor was he in the best mental state due to the Fall of Xanatos, and Obi-wan was too proud to tell him the real reason he was struggling.
Then came Obi-wan's infamous breakdown.
He was fourteen, and suffering through depression, though he hid it well. He was home alone; Qui-gon was out, though Obi-wan wasn't sure where. He had suffered through another day of not being able to pay attention in his classes and not being able to keep up with the rest of his age mates in the sparring ring. Obi-wan stormed into his bedroom and flopped down on his bed.
Why am I so useless at everything? He thought bitterly. I can't do anything right because of these stupid wings. I can't even focus now. I'm supposed to be a Jedi padawan, but I can't even do the simple stuff. He snorted. Like not wallow in self-pity. Everything would probably be a whole lot easier if I didn't have wings. A dark, vicious idea formed in his mind. If I didn't have wings... Silently, Obi-wan got up and walked into the kitchen. He picked out the sharpest knife in the drawer, a long serrated one he'd seen his master use a couple times. He took a deep breath and walked into the bathroom and pulled down a bottle of pain medication from the cabinet. It was only meant for soreness and stiff muscles, but it was better than nothing. According to the label, at his age he was only supposed to take one pill, but Obi-wan wasn't sure how much his plan would hurt.
So he took seven.
"Better safe than sorry." He muttered to himself. He glared at his wings in the mirror. They rose almost to his own height, and at the very ends they brushed just passed his hips. They weren't big enough to lift him off the ground yet, and he doubted they ever would be. Useless. All they do is slow me down. They're wings and I can't even fly. What's the point of having them if they don't do anything? He nodded to himself, grabbed the knife and twisted his arm behind his back. He would have picked his lightsaber for this job, but he knew that he probably would've ended up burning his back and causing much more damage than intended.
After a couple minutes of trying to get his arm bent at the right angle and generally scratching up his back, and trying to fight off the sudden nausea caused by the pain medication, Obi-wan finally sliced his left wing.
And then he nearly doubled over in pain.
It was so intense black spots danced in front of his vision and he nearly forgot how to breathe. It almost felt like his entire back was on fire, only worse. He hadn't been paying attention to his mental shielding, so if he didn't know before, his master defiantly knew something was wrong after that. Hurry up before he comes back. Obi-wan took a shaky breath and tried again, but just the effort to try and twist his arm backwards was too much, and he collapsed onto the floor, unconscious.
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When he woke up, Obi-wan was in the medcenter. He could sense his master next to him, without even opening his eyes, and he could sense his friend Bant hovering just outside in the hallway. He desperately wanted to fall back unconscious, just so he wouldn't have to deal with all the questions and explanations that would have to happen when he woke up. But it was too late; Qui-gon had already picked up on his consciousness.
"Padawan?" He asked softly. Obi-wan groaned. "How are you feeling?"
"Bad. Tired." Obi-wan managed to get out, only half because it was true. The other half was because he wanted to see if Qui-gon would leave him alone for now. No such luck.
"What were you thinking? What were you trying to do?"
Obi-wan stubbornly stayed silent.
"Obi-wan." Qui-gon murmured in a gentle voice that both soothed Obi-wan and grated on his nerves. "The healers said that there are cuts on the bottom of your wings, like.. You were trying to cut them off. Were you?"
"Yes." Obi-wan snapped, opening his eyes and looking at his master. "I was, because they are just useless things that are there and all they do is slow me down and if I keep them I won't ever be able to do any of the lightsaber techniques and then I'll never be a Jedi!" He slouched down deeper into the bed. Qui-gon just raised his eyebrows.
"Why didn't you come talk to me about this?" Obi-wan turn his head and didn't answer. "This is something that can be fixed, Obi-wan. So the traditional 'saber forms don't work for you. We'll just have to modify them so that they do." Obi-wan snorted.
"You can't just change the lightsaber forms."
"Yes you can. We have different forms to allow Jedi to utilize their individual fighting style, while still fighting with a lightsaber. If you physically cannot do some of the more basic forms, then they can be changed." Obi-wan still looked at his master in disbelief. The lightsaber techniques were something that had been around for over a thousand years, they couldn't just be changed for one person.
Could they?