This is an alternate ending to "The Road (Has Got No End)" inspired by Jmp's comment - "Really enjoyed reading though I did feel Athos, Porthos, and D'artagnan accepted the story rather too easily, would have like to have seen Lanceot/Aramis having to struggle to make them understand."
The title is taken, in part, from Mark Lanegan's "Resurrection Song".
"I'm… My real name is Lancelot," the medic blurted out, looking down at the ground. He told himself not to look up until his story was told, for if he did, he knew he would never begin again. "I was born in the sixth century AD. When I reached my twenties, I set out for Camelot to become a knight. There I rescued a young man from a griffin - Prince Arthur's manservant, Merlin." Around him, though he couldn't see it, his newest brothers exchanged looks of disbelief. "Within a few years, I had become a Knight of the Round Table, but soon after I sacrificed myself in Arthur and Merlin's place. Not even a year later, Morgana -"
"Morgan le Fay," Merlin mouthed at the others, whose incredulity only grew.
"- Raised me from the dead as a shade, a mere shell of my former self, incapable of anything but following her orders to come between Guinevere and Arthur, at the moment only days from marrying. Upon accomplishing this act, she ordered me to stop breathing. The next thing I knew, Merlin was putting me to rest, and then… then I woke up a thousand years later. Here."
"You're saying that you're the Lancelot, and he's the Merlin, and you both lived in Camelot?" d'Artagnan asked.
Aramis hesitated before he nodded.
Athos frowned, studying his brother. He could see none of the marksman's usual tells, and he wanted to believe Aramis, but logic said -
"That's impossible," Porthos grunted. "I don't know why you're lying, 'Mis, especially 'bout something like this, or why your apparent other brother" - Aramis opens his mouth to, the other Musketeers guess, defend this Merlin, but Porthos didn't give him the chance - "would back you on it, but I - we - can't believe it. 'S just too impossible."
"Come on!" Merlin protested. "You've already seen my magic, what more proof do you need?"
"You could be just any old warlock," Aramis pointed out, holding back a laugh when the immortal shot him a glare. "You don't happen to have anything with you that made it into the stories, do you?"
"There aren't any truly accurate paintings of them, so they wouldn't be proof anyway," Merlin grumbled. "And Camelot herself crumbled into ruin ages ago. Unless your friends are willing to take us at our word, I have nothing. Unless…" the warlock trailed off into thought, eyes widening. "If it could be done… yes, there would be no doubting us then."
"What?" Lancelot asked, eying the look on his eldest brother's face warily. It was that look that inspired things like impersonating a noble's son.
"We watch my memories!" Merlin beamed, obviously pleased with the idea. "It'll be dangerous, of course, with a high risk of death for all, but there's no way to fake a memory."
D'Artagnan looked at Merlin as if he had suddenly grown horns and fangs, Athos edged slowly backwards, and Porthos actually went as far as to step in-between the warlock and his brothers. Lancelot, unfortunately used to such ideas from his old friend, just groaned, "'High risk of death for all', Merlin? That's not exactly how you're going to get any of them to trust you."
The centuries old man frowned. "I thought it was a brilliant idea, actually. Like I said, memories can't be faked. They'd have to believe us. Besides, it's just a risk. It's not as if I'm stepping through a veil that I'm one hundred percent positive will take me to the realm of the dead."
Now Porthos frowned, as that sounded an awfully lot like an accusation towards the end - the hard lilt to Merlin's voice was a pretty good tip on that point - and the way Aramis looked away, guilty expression on his face… yeah, that was definitely an accusation. "You did what, Aramis?" He asked, raising an eyebrow and letting the incredulousness slip into his voice.
Aramis persisted in looking away, but d'Artagnan, being the good little brother he was, walked around to face him. He had the puppy dog eyes going and everything as he asked, "Aramis?"
Aramis knew fully well part of that was an act - he and Porthos had been the lad's teachers in said act, after all - but they had taught him a bit too well. That, and the musketeer could tell that not all of it was an act. D'Artagnan was horrified at the mere idea that he had once walked willingly into death. He looked away, back to the others, though he didn't meet their eyes. "I did it to save you and Arthur, if you'll remember correctly, Merlin. I promised you I would always keep you from harm, and I promised Gwen that I would protect my king with my life. What kind of knight would I be if I didn't sacrifice myself in your place?"
"Besides alive?" Merlin and Athos asked dryly.
Aramis coughed and gave a wry grin. "Yeah, besides that." He paused, then frowned. "That's if you believe us, of course. Otherwise, you have no reason to scold me for anything." This made the other musketeers falter and look at each other.
"Honestly," Porthos grumbled, "I can see you doing it, so I want to scold you even if I don't believe you." Athos and d'Artagnan nodded, and Merlin and Lancelot groaned.
"I swear to you," the former knight stated, "that I am both Aramis and Lancelot. Merlin is the Merlin. We aren't lying to you."
"That's the thing, Aramis," Athos replied, sorrow flitting momentarily across his face. "You believe what you say, but what you say can't be true. That is what worries us."
Lancelot froze in shock, and Aramis - who had been in control now and then, but mostly letting Lancelot take the reins as, though they were the same person, Aramis belonged to France and Lancelot to Camelot - ripped back control for himself. "You don't believe me, not even a little," he stated. Merlin stilled beside him, but Aramis barrelled on without looking at him. "You aren't even considering the fact it could be the truth, are you? Just -," he laughed, a harsh and bitter sound that made d'Artagnan flinch. "Just ignoring the truth. My truth. The truth that makes me me, and you can't see it. Shite."
Lancelot had never cursed, not once in all the time he spent by Merlin's side, and judging by the startled look on Porthos's face, he though Aramis never did, either. It pressed home many things for the warlock, but the most important were: Lancelot found a new home in the musketeers, the musketeers cared for him in return, and it hurt them all more than anything that they couldn't believe Aramis. It was a familiar feeling for him, despite the centuries that had passed since Arthur refused to believe Merlin had magic. And unlike him, the former knight lacked the evidence to back his true self. But Merlin didn't.
Aramis felt Merlin's hand grasp his shoulder, saw sparks in his eyes and the other musketeers, and managed to think he'd prefer almost anything over whatever crazy plan Merlin had now. Then, he passed out.
Scenes flew before his eyes, pausing and restarting, going forward and backwards, and with a start Lancelot realised three things at once: one, he recognised some of these from his own memories, except now he saw them through someone else's eyes, two, they were Merlin's eyes, and three, Merlin was looking for something.
The scenes came to a halt. Lancelot watched as he saved his eldest brother from a griffin, as Merlin brought him to Gaius, as they forged a new identity for himself, and everything leading up to his discovery of Merlin's magic and leaving Camelot willingly. Then the scenes fast forwarded again, except slower this time. They found the next memory easily, and the next and the next. One by one he watched himself save Gwen, swear himself to Arthur, save Merlin, go on quests, befriend the knights, die, come back, bewitch Gwen, die again.
Porthos came to with a gasp. Lifting a shaking hand to his face, he found his cheeks wet with tears. But then, he figured, if there was ever an appropriate moment to cry, it was watching your brother die. Wiping his face with his sleeve and leaving it at that, he sat up and looked around. Everyone else was waking up. Athos leant back, casually using a tree trunk behind him to support himself as he watched them. D'Artagnan simply lay there for a moment, but quickly leapt to his feet and, finding himself in the centre of everyone else, backed away towards Athos. Aramis and Merlin both sat up, but stayed where they were - though Porthos did note that that put them extremely close to one another. After what he had just watched, he understood why. Reliving memories like that… "Why?" he asked aloud.
"What?" Merlin asked, looking up from where he'd been studying the grass beneath him.
"Why show us that?"
"Do you believe us now?"
Porthos hesitated and looked to d'Artagnan and Athos. They gave him no sign, but he remembered the tears on his own face. He remembered what they had been showed and what a strange place it had been. "I do."
The warlock shrugged and said, "Then it served its purpose."
Aramis snorted and leaned over, nudging his old friend and asking, "If it hadn't?"
Merlin smirked, "I'd have stolen you away."
Such a scene and statement before would have caused Porthos to stiffen, but now he had Merlin's memories. It still bothered him a bit, but not much. If anything, he felt thankful there was another person to help rein Aramis in - though admittedly, he didn't have much hope of it working considering what Merlin just did showed he didn't have much self control either.
"You could have killed us," ripped Porthos from his thoughts, and he turned to where Athos had straightened off the tree trunk. D'Artagnan looked at his mentor, face such a mess of emotions it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. Porthos hurried to his feet, as did Aramis. Merlin climbed to his own feet slowly and thoughtfully, taking his time.
"I said it could," the warlock agreed. "But if it had, I would have been surprised." Athos cocked an eyebrow, obviously demanding an explanation. Merlin shrugged and gave it to him. "I'm the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth, and I have been so for the last millennia. I have collected so much knowledge it would take you an entire lifetime to read it all. If I couldn't do it, no one could." From anybody else, this would have been the biggest boast Porthos had ever heard - and he had heard some big boasts. From Merlin, however… from Merlin it simply sounded like truth. Athos asked for the truth, and the immortal stated it as if he was predicting the weather.
Their leader saw that, and Porthos watched as he relaxed - though he relaxed even further when the warlock added, "Besides, Lancelot clearly loves you as brothers. Better to take the risk than take him away."
Aramis grinned and grasped Merlin's shoulder in support, causing the immortal to lean into him for support. "Let's go home," the healer said.
"Home…" Merlin murmured, and smiled.
I hope you all enjoyed, and please review! I want to add on more to this series, so if you have any ideas / things you want to read, let me know! Please note, though: this is not a promise to write it, simply hoping all of you might spark something.
