The Forgotten Ranger - A Ranger's Apprentice Fanfiction

The Refusal

The weight of the refusal sank in like a blade between words. Gilan blinked, caught off guard. He took a step forward, brows drawn, his tone measured but pressing.

"I know it's sudden," he said carefully, "but this isn't something you have to decide right away. You've seen what it's like. What we do. You acted with courage and instinct today—things we can't teach. There's a place for you with us, if you want it."

Aiden shook his head, gaze fixed on the floor. "It's not about fitting in."

"Then what is it?" Gilan asked, not unkindly. "What's holding you back?"

Aiden's jaw tightened. He didn't answer at first. The silence stretched too long, until even the Baron leaned forward slightly, sensing the storm behind his stillness. "I've seen what it does," Aiden said finally, his voice low. "The cost. The weight you carry. My family knows it better than most."

Halt shifted, eyes narrowing slightly. Gilan frowned, his expression softening as understanding began to take root. "I know the burden," Gilan offered gently. "We all carry it. But your father—he made his choices freely. He believed in the cause. He knew what was at stake."

"And look where it got him," Aiden snapped, louder than he intended. His voice echoed in the stone chamber before falling back into quiet. "You talk about the cause, about belief—but he gave everything. And in the end, he was murdered in his own home. Alone."

Gilan took a small step back. The words hit him harder than he expected.

"I'm not saying he wasn't brave," Aiden went on, quieter now, but with something raw and unhealed behind each word. "But that life... it's not just about cloaks and mystery and silent heroics. It takes things from you. And I'm not letting it take anything else from me."

For a moment, the only sound was the soft hiss of the fireplace. Gilan's shoulders rose and fell in a slow breath. He looked at Aiden—not with disappointment, but with something closer to sorrow. "I didn't realise," he said. "That's what it was for you."

Aiden didn't answer, but the look in his eyes said enough.

Gilan gave a small nod, accepting the decision for what it was. "Then I won't ask again."

Halt's face was unreadable, though something in his expression had shifted—not judgmental, but understanding. Baron Arald leaned back in his chair, folding his hands and letting the quiet settle.

"You have every right to choose your own path," Gilan added after a moment. "Just... don't close every door before you're sure you're not standing in the right one."

"Can I go?" Aiden asked, turning for the door as soon as Baron Arald nodded. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows behind him as he left the chamber—shadows that followed him out into the darkened corridor, silent and steady as ever.

The door clicked softly shut behind Aiden. For a moment, no one in the office spoke.

The fire crackled in the hearth, filling the silence with its low, restless whisper. Gilan remained standing, staring at the spot where Aiden had been sitting, his arms folded tightly across his chest.

"Well," Baron Arald said at last, exhaling slowly. "That didn't go quite the way you'd hoped."

Gilan gave a dry chuckle, though it held no amusement. "No. It didn't."

Halt stood by the window, gazing out into the darkened courtyard beyond. "You knew it might not," he said evenly. "The boy's been carrying that weight for years. Might've been naive to think he'd set it down so easily."

"I thought..." Gilan hesitated, shaking his head. "He showed promise. And not just skill with a sword. The way he tracked those men, his instincts, his judgement under pressure. He has what it takes."