Emerie Of Illyria - Blog Posts

Back on my acotar fanart with Emerie! I have her in her shop, the illumination of her new future lighting the dark memories of that place. The books arent very clear on how clipping works, so I took it as how some people (cruelly) clip flight feathers of birds. Literally clipping out parts of her wings.

Emerie of Illyria

"I have the perfect color to bring out your eyes."

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A very happy Day 5 of @emerieweekofficial! Mates help mates look their best before a night on the town in Adriata 😌 Cannot thank @vivictory-draws for helping to bring this iconic wlw meme and pose to life for Cresserie! 😍

Emerie for @emerieweekofficial

For @nestaarcheronweek day 1: Sister, I've decided to draw Nesta with her found sisters, Emerie and Gwyn, as the three Graces from Botticelli's "Spring"

Vibrant Velaris

AO3 | Nesta Week 2025 Masterpost |

@nestaarcheronweek

Prompt: Day Six - Birthday Girl (While Nesta doesn’t have a specified birthday in canon, that doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate our favorite character turning a year older! How do you think Nesta and the people who love her would celebrate her special day?)

A/N: I hope I’ve captured the Valkyries' banter and general interactions in a way that’s at least a little bit canon-accurate. If not, apologies! I also haven’t watched the Phantom of the Opera (even though I’d like to), so forgive any plot inaccuracies! The info is mostly from Wikipedia and fanart I’ve seen, as well as one quote from IMDb. Also: extremely slight use of drugs for recreational purposes (they get high on mirth root, which is pretty much fae weed), and general horny insanity towards the end (no actual smut, just teasing!)

Word Count: 4253

“Surprise!” Nesta blinked, bleary-eyed and still not quite within the world of the waking as Emerie’s voice floated to her, light and breezy. Sunlight filtered in through the now-open windows, and Nesta bet it was her best friend who had drawn the curtains in an attempt to rouse her.

“You couldn’t have waited a little longer, Em?” Nesta mumbled, eyes drifting closed once again. “Nope! It’s your birthday, which means it would be considered criminal if we let you sleep in late.”

“Come on,” encouraged Gwyn, who was standing on Nesta’s other side. “It’s your thirtieth birthday. You can’t tell me you’re not excited, because then you’d be lying.”

“I am excited. But we didn’t have to start this early-”

“Nonsense!” Emerie’s voice cut through Nesta’s grumbling, and she yanked the covers off. Nesta gave a small yelp as the cold air hit her bare legs. “Aren’t I the birthday girl? Don’t I decide what we do today?”

“You can and you will,” Gwyn said, nearly hauling her friend out of bed. “Once you get up, that is.”

“Cruel, evil females.” The words had no real bite to them, but Nesta let herself be dragged outof bed anyways. She rolled her eyes and began making her way to the bathroom, having figured out the hard way it was easier if her best friends got their way.

When she came out, Gwyn and Emerie were already seated by the table in her chambers. All the grander, more opulent chambers tended to have one, and the House certainly didn’t mind, not as it was currently plying the two Valkyries with pastries and sweets galore.

“What’s all this, then?” Nesta asked, glancing over at her best friends whose mouths were now stuffed with delectable pastries. “Oh, the House wanted to wish you a happy birthday,” Gwyn mumbled around a particularly delicious raspberry tart. “Mmm, these are delicious. Nesta, you have to try some.”

“Oh, trust me, I wasn’t planing to miss out on these treats.” She plopped down beside Emerie. The House had likely sensed her there, and a plate immediately appeared in front of her, along with a spoon and a glass. “Thanks, House,” Nesta said to the ceiling, beginning to pile a slice of chocolate cake and a small block of fudge onto her plate.

At her hum of approval, Emerie only grinned. “Told you. I swear, the House makes such good food.” It seemed that they’d managed to please the House immensely because it only kept serving them increasing amounts of sweet treats until they were all about to burst. Even with Nesta’s infatuation for baked goods, she could tell this was getting out of hand.

Reclining in her chair and letting out a long sigh, Gwyn closed her eyes. “Oh that was the best breakfast I’ve had in a long while.”

“Shut up,” groaned Nesta, too full herself to actually muster much of a coherent response. “You’ll only encourage the House more.”

“Ow,” came Emerie’s voice from beside Nesta’s. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts to breathe, I swear to the Mother. It’ll be a miracle if I manage to walk at all after this.”

It seemed that Emerie’s request for a miracle did not go unanswered after all. Indeed, the three Valkyries spent the afternoon wandering around Velaris after having been flown down by Cassian, Azriel, and Mor. Rhysand was at the townhouse, accompanied by Feyre, meeting with the governors of the city about a particularly pressing matter regarding labour migration.

“I thought you didn’t want anyone ‘interrupting you’ on your birthday, Nes,” teased Cassian as he flew them down. “Yes, well, it’s not like we were planning to waste four hours climbing ten thousand steps, either,” she quipped back.

“Fair enough.” Cassian’s answering grin was sharp enough to cut.

✦ ✦ ✦

The Rainbow emerged in front of them, alight with life and colour as artists and customers alike meandered through the stalls. The theatres of Velaris stood in the distance, elegant and refined in their own way as the Sidra cut through the city’s famed district, glistening in the bright sunlight.

Window-shopping after lunch had quickly turned into actual shopping, and the females had bought their weight’s worth in jewellery, clothes, and shoes, then ordered some items to be collected at a later date. Shop until you drop had been Emerie’s answering phrase when Gwyn asked if they really needed all of this, and none had objected since then.

Now hauling at least four large bags each, they clambered their way up the crowded streets, dodging hordes of people who seemed to be enjoying the pleasant weather. Spring was beginning to properly set upon Velaris, and everyone wanted to be getting as much sunlight as possible before a bout of April showers overtook the City of Starlight once more.

“What time is the play?” Gwyn asked, trying to be discrete but failing miserably. “Four, I think,” came Emerie’s response. “Play? What play?” Nesta’s curiosity had gotten the better of her. “Oh, my bad. It’s not a play. Well, it’s this romantic opera,” came the Illyrian’s clumsy explanation.

Nesta stilled, coming to a halt in front of a stall. She didn’t care if she was blocking someone’s way. The thoughtfulness behind the gesture had tears welling up in her eyes. “That’s…you’d do that for me?”

She’d once mentioned off-handedly how much she loved dance and music, and that she’d never been to a dramaturgy, even as a human. Nesta had been too young, and her family had lost their wealth shortly afterwards. All dreams of one day visiting a production had been lost until today.

“Don’t be silly. Of course we would.” Gwyn’s light voice cut through Nesta’s inner whirl of emotions. “Now come on. I don’t want to be late.”

After managing to coax the information out of them, they let slip that they’d managed to get Azriel in on Nesta’s birthday festivities. He’d found a way to book last-minute tickets for them all. The Shadowsinger had likely had to pull a few strings, but Nesta would properly thank him later.

Making their way up to the Theatre of Margravia, one of the city’s largest, Nesta had to physically restrain herself from gasping. The opulence and grace that the theatre exuded was unlike anything she’d ever seen. Fantastical domes and spires covered the entire structure, each design decorated with enough gold for a small kingdom’s treasury.

Velaris really did like to go all out, splurging on the smallest of luxuries until Nesta was sure she couldn’t possibly see any more wealth or decoration. Oh, how wrong she was.

If the exterior had been breathtaking, the interior was nothing short of heavenly. Nesta had to crane her neck to glimpse the stained glass and intricately painted murals that covered the ceilings in the main lobby. Receptionists’ desks lined in gold and crafted of marble were artfully arranged along the far side of the wall. Neat queues had begun forming as fae waited to be let in, chattering quietly amongst themselves.

To her left, an archway stood with a sign above it: Locker Area. It was beginning to get more crowded, and the three females had to make a decision before they were trampled under the throngs of Fae now entering the main hall.

Thankfully, they managed to make it to the lockers without being jostled too badly. It was half-past three, which meant that they had plenty of time to leave their shopping, go to the bathroom, and get situated with time to spare before the play started.

Leaving their coats and everything else inside, and ensuring that her shopping and woolen overcoat was neatly locked, Nesta glanced towards Gwyn. “Do we ask them at the front desk?”

“I think so.” A slight furrow was visible on the redhead’s brow as she, too, attempted to make sense of this entire social setting. She’d be damned if she committed a single social faux-pas tonight. “The operas here are so different from choirs and singing of Sangravah.”

“That’s what I saw everyone else doing. I mean, we can always ask the receptionist.”

As the three females made their way to the front desk, each clutching a small handbag, conversation resumed in full force. “See? I told you you’d need to dress fancy today,” said Emerie as they walked. “You should start listening to me more.”

Indeed, all three females wore formal dresses, though none was traditional enough to be considered entirely formal. Nesta’s was a plain, crimson gown as if she wore blood on her body. Lady Death indeed. It complenented her complexion wonderfully, and her friends’ gowns contrasted hers. Emerie was in black; Gwyn in teal, both wearing gowns with high slits. While Emerie’s showed of her shoulders with an elegant low cut, Gwyn’s was backless, the gems on it artfully placed and glittering as it caught the light.

“Alright, alright,” came Nesta’s response. “Let’s not get ourselves on a high horse over this, shall we?”

✦ ✦ ✦

“Hi. Three tickets for The Phantom of the Opera, please.” Gwyn flashed a charming, polite smile to the cashier who sat at the reception. Sporting a head of long, indigo hair and stunning silver eyes, she had a slight frown on her face. She seemed to be busy, making notes and writing things in the margins of her ledger. 

“Certainly. Give me one moment, please.” Her voice was smooth, practiced. As she took the tickets from Gwyn’s awaiting hand and crossed off what Nesta assumed to be their names on a checklist, she gave them a tight smile. “Hall three. Straight down and second door to your left. Enjoy the show.”

Thanking the receptionist, they began making their way to the hall, and Nesta’s breath left her lungs in a gasp as she saw the true resplendence that the Theatre of Margravia had to offer its guests.

Seats made of the plushest velvet were placed in a semicircle all around the hall; soft to the touch and rising in height to create a sort of indoor amphitheatre with clear views of the stage no matter where she looked from. Chandeliers hung from the domed ceiling, shimmering with iridescence as the daylight struck them from different angles; entering through the elevated windows.

Balconies rose on either side with cutouts that allowed unimpeded views for the members of the audience. Sconces were place periodically along the walls, bathing the entire chamber in a warm, mellow, and almost regal light.

Finally, Nesta’s attention was dragged to the stage itself. A crimson curtain was drawn over the stage, leaving little of the oak paneling visible to the audience, but Nesta had no doubt it was just as, if not more magnificent than any other feature of the theatre.

“Oh my gods,” Emerie breathed beside, clearly as awestruck as Nesta herself. “It’s so…” She trailed off, and Nesta couldn’t agree more. The theatre had left all of them speechless, all playful banter whooshing out of their skulls as a newfound admiration for the stunning architecture overtook them.

Neither of her friends had ever had the chance to visit something so majestic, that she was sure of. Illyrians didn’t exactly value the richness and culture that Velaris had to offer, and Sangravah had its own traditions and rituals unique to the temple.

Needless to say, it was an experience in itself, and Nesta wasn’t going to waste a single moment of it.

✦ ✦ ✦

The music filled Nesta’s blood, imbuing her veins with exhiliration and making its way to her heart, giving it life. It made her feel…Nesta wasn’t even sure what she was feeling, only that she was, and it was wonderful.

She hadn’t realised she’d been crying until her vision went blurry and she could no longer see the singers on stage. Their outlines softened, and she felt a drop of something warm land on her cheek. The last time she’d been this emotional over a piece of music had been at the Solstice Party in the Hewn City years ago, and even that had been short-lived as she was forced to uphold the role of cruel, calm courtesan attempting to seduce a shrewd Eris Vanserra.

Nesta hadn’t realised how much of the world she was missing out on because she’d been healing. It brought a certain air of melancholy to her, despite being surrounded by music and art and her best friends. She made a mental note to herself to come to the opera more often.

The male on stage, a musical genius and the phantom haunting an opera, sang about his love for the singer who was employed there. His fierce passion for her, her adoration for him as he made her his apprentice…Nesta was in a world of bliss.

Their voices were more than apt for these roles, she thought. They complemented each other, and formed a glorious harmony when they sang together. The notes flowed around them and over them, arcing and circling throughout the hall until they crafted an arrow aimed straight at Nesta’s heart. It’s aim landed true, and Nesta could only stare, transfixed, as their voices raised gradually in pitch. 

Sweeping arpeggios and increasingly dramatic chord progressions had her gasping in amazement. Never had she heard something that sounded so chaotic in its glory, something so wonderful it had her heart nearly leaping out of her chest in an attempt to get closer to the music. Indeed, she found feelt her own pulse quickening in time to the escalating tempo, the thud-thud-thud of her heart becoming louder and louder until it filled her eardrums.

Suddenly, applause erupted all around them, and Nesta stood, still in trance, to applaud the performers. They deserve more than flimsy cheering and whistling as if we’re some hooligans, she thought to herself, but only clapped harder. She was still at a loss for words, and didn’t quite know how to show her appreciation for them.

“That was incredible.” Gwyn’s sigh to her left had Nesta’s mind reeling back to her friends. She could only nod dumbly as Emerie and Gwyn, who seemed to have recovered much better than she had, discussed the show.

“-And the way he said his lines-”

“They expect us to be normal after she sang ‘God, give me courage to show you you are not alone’? What the hell?”

“I swear to the Mother, his mask-”

“Did you know, I would have ripped the thing off his face with my teeth if he would have let me, and then fucked him in that suit.”

Nesta hadn’t quite managed to come down from the high, the exhilaration that the theatre pieces had brought her. In fact, it was all she thought about on the way to retrieve their jackets until Emerie’s hand on her shoulder had her jolting.

“Are you alright? You’ve been very quiet since the play finished.”

“I’m fine,” she responded quietly. “I’m just…processing, is all.” Gwyn laughed. “I can imagine. I’ve seen a similar production at the temple once before when I was younger, but the actors were so good I was on the edge of my seat the entire time. I knew what was going to happen, I knew about the Phantom and Christine and yet it felt like I didn’t. It felt like I was experiencing everything all over again. I can only imagine how amazed you must be.”

“Well, that’s enough sappy business for one evening,” came Emerie’s reply. “What’re we doing for dinner?”

“We were having a moment, you know,” Gwyn grumbled, reaching into her purse to fish out the key to her locker. “You didn’t have to ruin it.”

“I’m being practical, Gwynnie dearest. We won’t be able to discuss whatever it is you Priestesses do without something to fill our bellies, now will we?”

Their banter continued as they stepped out into the now cooler spring air. Nesta sorely regretted buying so much, because she could barely carry the bags anymore. Her arms had cramped up, and she’d be thankful if she had any ability in her upper limbs tomorrow. 

“I think it’s better if we go up the House and have dinner there, no?” She asked her friends. “We’ve been dragging these bags around with us the entire day like pirates with our loot.”

Emerie snorted. “True, that.”

“Besides,” the redhead chimed in. “If no one else is already there, then we’ll stay the night.” It wasn’t rare for the other two to spend a night at the House of Wind, seeing as it was safe and secluded enough from the city that no one would bother them. It wasn’t like they needed to go into the city in the early hours of morning or some godsforsaken time at night anyways, so the steps didn’t bother any of them, at least not as much as they used to.

Emerie’s initial trepidation at being trapped in the House had thawed, though it had taken her a while to become fully comfortable with the place the way Nesta and Gwyn were. 

“Rhys is away, I think, and Cass and Az might be in Illyria tonight. We should be fine.”

“What about Mor?” Nesta couldn’t help the wolfish grin that overtook her face at Emerie’s question. “What about her?”

“Not-not like that!” She hissed, smacking Nesta lightly on the arm as Gwyn burst out laughing. “Oh yes like that.”

“I don’t like her that way!” She said indignantly, now visibly blushing. “It’s so cute how you get flustered,” Nesta replied coolly. “One would assume you only get this hot and bothered because you fancy her.”

“I hate both of you. Did we really have to discuss this in public?”

“Yes,” Gwyn wheezed, shopping bags forgotten as she clutched at her stomach. “Our goal for delivering maximum embarrassment has been met.” She fist-bumped Nesta, who was still smirking. Emerie’s glare only deepened, and she rolled her eyes. “Why must you terrorise me so?”

✦ ✦ ✦

“Thank the Gods we managed to make it up here in one piece,” Gwyn huffed, wiping sweat from her now-damp brow.

Nesta only grunted like a heathen, not even bothering to grace her friend with a response. 

Currently, all three of them were sprawled out on the living room sofa, panting lightly in an effort to catch their breaths.

They’d made it halfway up the steps with their fuckton of shopping, as Nesta had called it, before Gwyn had the enlightening idea to simply ask the House for help. “House?” She’d called out in her sweetest voice. “Can we have a ramp or something to help get all this stuff upstairs?”

Immediately, it had summoned a platform lift of sorts, and had waited patiently as they loaded everything into it. That seemed to be where it’s tolerance ended, however, because as soon as they’d gotten situated, the lift had darted up with no warning nor preamble.

They stumbled out of the thing like drunkards, each clutching their stomachs and sporting a complexion that was such a delightful shade of green it would have given the swamps in the Spring Court a run for their money.

The nausea had yet to abate, hence, their intoxicated-like stupor and unwillingness to converse normally.

Simply collapsing on the couch had done at least some good for them, it seemed. They were all feeling much less like half-dead fish and much more like functioning people around half an hour later, and were at least speaking to each other.

It was then the debates for dinner had started.

“Okay, okay. What about…” Gwyn screwed her face up in her concentration as she tried to come up with an idea that all three of them would like. “What about lasagna?”

Nesta made a face. “I like lasagna, but I want something more…” She trailed off, not quite sure to how finish that sentence. “Nesta,” Emerie grumbled. “Just pick something or we’ll be forced to choose for you.”

“You wouldn’t,” she shot back. “I’m the birthday girl.”

“I would. Especially if you take this long to pick dinner, for Cauldron’s sakes. You must rival even me for sheer indecisiveness.” The Illyrian’s patience was wearing out, and they were all getting increasingly hungry.

“Fine. How about shawarma? Or kebab?”

“I can’t handle the spice, remember?” Gwyn objected immediately. “The House says it makes the food less spicy, but I don’t trust it.” She frowned up at the ceiling, eyes narrowing as if trying to get the House to confess.

“Oh my Gods. We’re having fajitas and it’s final.” It was the one Illyrian dish Emerie knew Nesta had fallen in love with. The first few times when Nesta had visited her shop, she’d decided to make fajitas as a treat. Meat in such large amounts was rare, but the vegetables had been no problem since Emerie grew her own. They’d made do, and Nesta had adored the recipe despite its simplicity.

“Ooo, yes, that sounds lovely. These won’t be too spicy for you, will they, Gwyn?” Nesta teased.

“Oh, shut up,” she grumbled.

By the time their argument finally died down, the House had finished summoning plates, cutlery, and a large saucepan of fajitas, as well as a large chocolate cake which Nesta was sure would give them a heart attack if they ate more than two bites of. A plethora of sauces along with still-warm tortillas had also appeared, meaning the House had them freshly made.

For the first five minutes, only the sounds of munching filled the room. They were all famished, and no one wanted to waste time on something as frivolous as talking. As their bellies began to fill, though, conversation slowly began trickling back. “Mmm, this is delicious,” were Gwyn’s first words as she spoke around a mouthful of chicken, peppers, and tortillas. “You outdid yourself this time, House.”

It merely flapped the curtains once in response, as if to say, You’re welcome. 

General topics of Valkyrie training, the newest stores in the city, good restaurants, and the like drifted around, punctuated by the occasional teasing jab or giggle.

The sun had begun setting over the horizon, casting a soft, golden glow throughout the open chamber, but no one paid any heed to it. Currently, they were all scarfing down more chocolate cake than what a normal person would deem healthy, but…it was Nesta’s birthday, which meant that she could eat whatever she wanted. By extension, the same rule applied to Gwyn and Emerie, and none cared about the stomachache they were likely to be hit with later that same night. Right now, Nesta’s story was far more interesting, with her friends hanging onto every word like entranced children.

“-And then he called me a witch in front of everyone.”

“What? Just for using the weapons while you were on your cycle? What a bastard.”

“Please tell me you didn’t let the prick get off that easily, Nesta,” said Gwyn, glowering. “Oh no,” she responded, grinning. “Most certainly not. “I went up and brushed a finger along every single one of his weapons, you know the ones on the racks? And then I looked at him sweetly and told him that he had to bury all the daggers now, because I’d cursed them.”

That sent Emerie howling with laughter, and she collapsed on the couch, wheezing. Despite herself, Gwyn cracked a smile, which dissolved into a cackle almost immediately as Emerie trembled.

“No way.” Gwyn was still in disbelief. “I’m not joking about this one,” said Nesta. “I’m dead serious.”

✦ ✦ ✦

Nesta’s mind was blissfully hazy, and she had the stupidest grin plastered on her face as Gwyn rambled on about…something. She’d long since lost track of what anyone was saying. She heard Emerie’s voice join the conversation, but didn’t have the energy to pay attention.

The scent of lavender and vanilla permeated the air, as well as the distinct smell of smoke.

Ridiculously high on mirth root and lounging in a large bathtub with expensive soaps and oils, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d indulged in something like this. The joint they’d shared was currently in Gwyn’s hands, and she let out a puff, eyelids drooping shut.

“Nesta,” Emerie called, drawing her name out. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re fucking hot?”

She couldn’t help as a snicker left her lips. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back on the edge of the bathtub.

Inhibitions were nearly non-existent at this point, seeing as they’d been in here for well over an hour. The House, Cauldron bless it, had kept the water warm this entire time, almost as if it, too, was enjoying watching the three naked females’ antics.

“Thanks, babe.”

“No, like, I’m serious. Like you’re ass is so fine in those training leathers, did you know? I honestly don’t know how Cassian hasn’t fucked you yet.”

“You can’t be talking about Nesta’s ass when you were practically flashing half the city in that gorgeous dress of yours. Oh my Gods, your tits, Em.” Gwyn groaned. “I’d lick them if you let me.” With that, she passed the pipe to Emerie.

Their conversation only became more depraved after that. Comments about certain body parts quickly devolved into detail descriptions and explanations about how they’d fuck each other. At some point, the House had materalised bottles of some of the strongest liquor. Despite their best judgement, they gave in letting the sentient structure pamper them for this one night.

It was, after all, their best friend’s birthday.

A/N: The “Theatre of Margravia” I mentioned here is actually based on the Bavarian Margravial Opera House in Southern Germany. I thought the name sounded pretty and I encourage you to search up pictures! We also don’t know very much about Velaris’ Rainbow, and I’m never one to pass up an opportunity for worldbuilding!