Fandom: The Witcher

Ship: Geralt/Emhyr

Rating: mature

Emhyr treats himself to a sweet autocorrect spell to avoid making mistakes when writing important documents. Autocorrect has its issues.

1000 words delivered directly into your face for your convenience - after the cut:

Spelling it Out

If, however, the heir of any one of the aforesaid has been under age and in wardship, let this

"Stronthe."

The Emperor sighed, sanded the last paragraph he'd written to dry the ink, picked out a small sandpaper tool and carefully scrubbed away on the last word, which shouldn't have been 'this' but 'him'. He hummed and resumed writing.

...let him have his inheritance without relief and without fine when he comes of age.

The 'him' stood out now because the velum had drawn more ink in that place. He hated imperfection. He also hated magic. But maybe he hated imperfection more.

There was a new spell that had been a fad with the scribes lately. You could purchase it to basically curse yourself - but it was very minor and benevolent as it only made you avoid making mistakes in writing. It somehow knew what you meant to write and stopped your fingers from making clumsy mistakes.

"Mererid!" He steepled his hands underneath his nose and waited for Mererid to cross the room and bow. "Get me that 'autocorrect' spell."

*****

The Emperor was elated. He hadn't made any writing mistakes since he'd administered that spell to himself. Unlike other people he, of course, didn't need help to avoid incorrect spelling, but sometimes his brain was faster than his consciousness and he'd leave words out or he already thought about another point he wanted to address and a wrong word slipped into one of his immaculately composed sentences. But not anymore!

The following regulations in geralt to patronage shall be determined then by the patricians of

"Hvren."

The Emperor stared at the sentence he'd just written and blinked. Whatever had happened just now? He dried the ink, scrubbed off the offending word and carefully replaced it with the correct 'regard'. What if he hadn't noticed. The embarrassment of it! He hrmphed at the mediocre quality of the magic but admitted it was almost the same letters - that might get a simple spell like that confused.

He kept writing successfully and with no further mistakes for the rest of the document. Then he wrote a letter to a noble in Nilfgaard who'd requested his opinion on some trivial matter, probably just wanted to remind the Emperor of his existence.

my geralts to your wife and cousin (it was an underhanded sleight because his wife was his cousin)

"Regards!"

Great Sun, this was bad. He blushed. If the spell at least failed randomly but it looked like - well. It let his very private obsession spill out into the open. He corrected the word and finished the letter.

What next - ah he had to give his opinion on a recommendation for introducing more poultry varieties to Temeria. He happily scribbled away, no pesky "regards" anywhere, he was just going to avoid that word. It was way too friendly anyway.

...as suggested providing adequate floor space at each stage of development seems to be basic to successful dick raising, not leaving it up to fuck

SHEYSS. He rubbed his face. He erased the offensive words and replaced them with 'duck' and 'luck'. Then he took a new sheet and started writing an old poem in Elder Speech. It was supposed to read

Dubhenn haern am glândeal, morc'h am fhean aiesin

but it said something completely different and absolutely inacceptable. The Emperor blushed, folded the velum and hid it in his robes to maybe read it again later. Then he shoved his stationery aside and buried his face in his arms.

"Mererid!"

He could hear it when Mererid had shuffled close and finished bowing and only then looked up again. "The mage who sells that autocorrect spell. Get him here."

Mererid nervously cleared his throat. "Your Majesty. Ahem. The mage appears to have vanished. There have been complaints, some of our scribes have tried to get hold of him but he seems to be gone."

The Emperor took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "The Witcher. Now."

*****

"Your Majesty." From the Witcher's mouth it still sounded like words people tended to say before they spat out. The Emperor shifted in his seat.

"G- Witcher." This was ridiculous. As long as he didn't have to write anything right under Geralt's nose this was completely innocuous. "I find myself under the influence of a minor household spell. Nothing important, pedestrian really. It was supposed to help avoid mistakes in writing but it is malfunctioning and scrambling my words. Can you fix this."

The Witcher snorted. "You too, eh." He stepped forward to the desk. "You're in luck, I've looked into it for your head scribe and found a way to deactivate it."

The Emperor didn't manage to keep himself from sighing in relief. "Then do that."

The Witcher chuckled. "You'll have to do it yourself. Do you still have the little scroll with the spell? Good. Copy the words of the spell on a fresh piece of velum, leave the autocorrect mistakes in."

The Emperor faltered but complied. His desk was very large. Geralt wouldn't see whatever he was going to write. There it was. He folded it once, just to be sure.

Geralt nodded. "Now give me the original spell, you're going to read your version out loud at the same time as I read the original, that will resolve the spell. Something wrong?"

The Emperor hadn't been that close to tears since - he couldn't even remember. He tried to speak and coughed. "It's rather personal," he managed.

"Yeah, it always is. Won't judge you, I promise. I've done this five times today already, think I've heard it all." Geralt gave him an encouraging smile. It looked lovely in his face.

"Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet consectetuer adipiscing elit," Geralt recited while the Emperor read out that he desired to feel the Witcher Geralt deep inside him while looking at the face that haunted his passionate dreams.

There was a 'pop' in the air when the spell dissolved. Then there was a pause so pregnant it was practically glowing. Then its water broke, the Emperor gasped, Geralt was suddenly right next to him, and he wasn't roaring with laughter but pulling him close by his overcoat. "Was wrong, I hadn't heard that one before," he rasped and then kissed Emhyr in a way that made it very clear that this was no mistake.