Unbound - a winged!Killian fic part one

This one takes place during the season four mid-season hiatus.

This does have some ableist language - Killian doesn't view his disabilities in the best light...

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The first time Killian bound his wings, it had been almost a year after Milah's death and his double maiming. It had taken a long time for the fragile bones to heal, longer the damage to his arm, and every movement had been agony. So he'd ordered Smee to lash them together to stabilize them.

But then the bones had healed into a hard knot, and when he'd molted, none of the long feathers extending from the wing's wrist had grown back, leaving him with a wing half the size of the other, and a severe loss of balance.

At first, he'd fashioned a false wingtip of silk and wire, weighted so it balanced the other wing. The silk had been beautifully embroidered to match his waistcoats, transforming his wing into a work of art.

But the splendor didn't hide the truth: he was Pan's little broken bird, and his crew who had once regarded his plumage with awe and pride, now only regarded him with pity.

He'd made the decision to permanently bind them during a raid. He'd been fighting the captain of a merchant freighter, and during a feint, his wings had sprung out for balance. The false feathers had caught on his opponent's cutlass and tore free, leaving him off balance and barely able to evade the next blow.

The captain had taunted him, calling him half a man. Killian's blood had boiled, and his attack had become more violent, and remorseless. He'd cut the man to pieces, stunning his own crew and further fueling his reputation as a monster.

He still wore that captain's ring.

After, he'd designed the harness he still wore centuries later. It had hurt, but it was better than facing the taunts, the pity.

But now...Emma had asked if he'd consider stopping wearing the harness altogether.

They were in Killian's bed at Granny's. It was just past dawn (early for Emma, he'd found; she would have slept until noon if propriety allowed) and she was running her fingers through the downy feathers near his shoulders.

His feathers were starting to fluff up, and he grumbled in feighned annoyance; they made hiding anything from her impossible.

"Sorry, Love?" he wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly.

"Go without the bindings," she said. "They obviously hurt you." She'd seen the flash of pain when he'd first spread his wings after freeing them. There were still pins and needles from the aching muscles even after a night of them getting a workout with Emma (a night that had ended with her wrapped in his wings).

Killian stared at the misshapen knot at the end of his damaged wing. It as so much more obvious than the stump of his wrist, hidden beneath the brace. This wasn't something that could be easily hidden. If he went without, then all of Storybrooke would see him for what he was: crippled. Broken.

He was already that one-handed pirate with a drinking problem. He didn't want them to see he was one-winged, as well...

Killian drew his wings back, folding them tightly to his spine. "I can't," he whispered, turning so he wouldn't see the look in her eyes.

"Killian..." he could hear the sadness in her voice.

He kept his gaze down as he picked up his harness and clothing and went into the bathroom.

By the time he'd finished, she was gone.

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Meh. One day, I'll be happy with my writing style. However, that will probably be a sign of the apocalypse...