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'I never meant to kill you.'
'Oh, really, Mordred? Tell me about that.'
Mordred speared a bit of Yorkshire Pudding. 'You don't know what Morgana was like.'
Merlin winced. Wrong thing, Mordred. Wrong thing.
'Really,' said Arthur. He took a gulp of beer.
Merlin was starting to think Kilgarrah had been wrong about this whole 'let's get the gang back together and work things out' thing. It wouldn't be the first time Kilgarrah had got things wrong, but in the old days Merlin could at least try to put that down to the fact that dragons might not understand human beings very well. But now Kilgharrah had been reincarnated as a therapist called Phil (long story), that defence no longer applied.
Nonetheless, here they were, the three of them, having Sunday lunch in a nice Yorkshire pub which had been Merlin's local for most of the last two hundred years. Not that anyone recognised him, now youth had been restored to his body (if not his mind). It had happened overnight, the day before Arthur returned. Presumably the powers of wherever realised Arthur was not the brightest and might not recognise Merlin otherwise. Whatever the reason, Merlin was glad to be rid of his creaky bones. The third day after Arthur returned, Mordred turned up in the form of a stroppy teenager. Again.
'Are you telling me she brainwashed you?' Arthur said, his piercing blue gaze trained on Mordred. It was pretty hot, actually. Well, Merlin thought so. Mordred might have a different view.
'Have you ever heard of coercive control?' Mordred savagely speared a brussel sprout with his fork.
Merlin got back to his own dinner. He was pretty sure nobody was going to actually kill each other right now and he loved a good roast.
'Of course I haven't. I've been dead, Mordred.'
'Gaslighting?'
'Something to do with explosions?' Arthur ventured.
'It's telling somebody they're lying when they're not, until they get confused.'
'Souds familiar,' murmured Merlin. The roast potatoes were perfect: soft and fluffy with delicious crispy outsides. Oooh, the parsnips were roasted too.
'She turned me against you,' Mordred said.
'Rubbish,' said Arthur. 'You got the hump with me when I told you not to see that girl and ran straight to the side of evil.'
'Oh, and how many tantrums did you have about Gwen?'
'Don't speak her name.'
There was a pause. Merlin recognised the flicker of pain on Arthur's face, the little furrow of his eyebrows.
'I loved you, Arthur,' breathed Mordred. 'I'd have had nightmares about it if I'd lived long enough. But I didn't. Because... why was it? Oh yes, that's right. You killed me right back, you bastard.'
'If you'd loved me you wouldn't have killed me.'
'You didn't love me?'
'No, I mean, that was...'
'Exactly. We loved each other, as brothers--'
'Mostly as brothers,' Merlin murmured.
'--and we killed each other anyway. Even after I begged for forgiveness, I might add.'
'You didn't mean it. You didn't deserve forgiveness. You'd just killed me, for fuck's sake.'
'I didn't mean to kill you.'
'Before we go around this roundabout again,' Merlin started.
'What's a roundabout?' asked Arthur.
Merlin took a deep breath, and counted to three. 'How about we leave the past in the past and start again?'
'Are you siding with him?' Arthur's face was a picture of outrage and disappointment. Ah, how Merlin had missed him.
'I don't think anyone should side with anyone. This is all new. He's new. Different upbringing, different Mordred. Well, except that he has magic, so he's going to remember all his past lives. Like you.'
'And you,' said Mordred.
'I never died,' Merlin said. 'Which means I'm your older and better and I'd like everyone to be quiet and eat their dinner in silence.'
'Ok, Grandpa,' Mordred smirked.
'In a manner of speaking,' said Merlin. 'Your new grandmother was a lovely woman.'
That shut them both up for long enough for Merlin to finish his dinner in peace.