Wisdom
It was a word he'd come to think about a lot lately. What it meant to have it and to hear it. Who around him possessed it. Arthur drummed his fingers on the table top slowly, staring absently at the tapestry covered wall. Merlin had possessed it, he thought slowly. He'd always had the right words to say, always knew what he needed to hear the most…perhaps even when words wouldn't help, no matter what they were.
The last image he had of the man where he had said nothing at all came to mind and Arthur frowned at the memory. Though it had been infuriating at the time, he knew now that words wouldn't have helped. Merlin's excuses, no matter how true they were, would have fallen on deaf ears.
It pained him to admit it, but it was the wisest move Merlin could have made at the time.