Work Text:
May Wong was full of nothing but gratitude, for Dracula.
He had saved her, pulled her out of the slump that was working as an actress in New York. It had been her dream, of course. But like all dreams, things had gotten strange. Distorted. All dreams shift and change and end up odder than they started. And that was how her being in New York had been. She was an actress, sure. But- off off broadway, in a tiny theatre, playing the lead in Lovely Mosquito. It wasn’t what she had imagined. She thought she’d be a star. On posters, on billboards, the name that drew people to her, like moths to a flame. Instead, she was just a mosquito, playing to half empty crowds every night. Until, of course, Dracula had come. He had seen her, and saw her brilliance, and taken her away. Taken her to a place where she could truly be appreciated. How could May not be grateful for that?
May Wong was full of nothing but confusion, at Dracula.
He had grown distant, nearly as soon as she had been turned. Dropped in Transylvania and left with the other brides, while Dracula went off and did whatever he wanted to do. He didn’t even bother to tell her what he was doing, half of the time. Just left her, again and again. It was not what May had been expecting, when she had been swept off her feet by the handsome stranger. She hadn’t expected him to already have multiple wives. She hadn’t expected to be placed with strange people, and left without her new husband for years on end. She hadn’t expected to be left wondering who her husband was. But she was confused. She had been- she was in love, and yet here she was, alone. How could May not be confused about that?
May Wong was full of nothing but fear, for Dracula.
She was scared for him, was the truth. He was always gone. Always doing strange things. Always leaving without a word. Always coming back hurt. And expecting May to put him back together again. What if she couldn’t, the next time? What if he got hurt too much, and couldn’t find his way back? All because he refused to tell May where he was going, or when he would be back, or anything at all of importance, let alone letting May go with him so he could have someone watching his back. And so, every single time that Dracula left- May was left as well. Left scared. Left terrified. Left fearful. That she would be alone, alone in this terrible world that Dracula had dragged her into, without him, forever. How could May not be afraid of that?
May Wong was full of nothing but anger, about Dracula.
Of course May was angry! She would be angry all the time, if she let herself. Not that she would ever let herself. She had too much control, for that. Too much love for Dracula, still, for that. But- she was angry. An anger that she locked away, deep inside of herself. An anger that permeated in her blood. Because- Dracula had made her into this. A vampire. A vampire in a land she was not from, with no people she knew. She liked those at the inn well enough, even took to being Squing’s mother. But- but she had been dumped here. Dumped by her husband. Swept off her feet, and then dropped, left to plummet to the ground all on her own. Of course May was angry! She was furious! How could May not be angry at that?
May Wong was full of nothing but fear, at Dracula.
He could be terrifying, when he wanted to be. May was simply glad that it was not often. But there were times- times when Dracula was terrifying. Not terrifying May because she didn’t know what was going to happen between the two of them, not terrifying May because she thought that Dracula would end up dead by his own hubris, but terrifying in his own right. He snarled, and he screamed, and he declared how worthless May was. And May certainly felt worthless. Dracula was old, unfathomably old, and he was powerful, unfathomably powerful. And worst of all, he was unpredictable. No one could ever predict him. His moods, his mercy, his methods- No one, not even May, could guess what he would do at any given moment. How could May not be afraid of that?
May Wong was full of nothing but confusion at Dracula.
He was mad at them. He was disappointed. He was rash. He wanted one thing, and then he wanted the next. He liked May, if not loved her. He dropped her like she was a hot coal in his hand, thrown to the ashes. He ran away, again and again. He lied. He left her- he left all of them. Dracula was as easy to understand as Russian was to May. She could, perhaps, catch a single glimpse or two of understanding after years of immersion- But mainly it made no fucking sense at all. Dracula was unpredictable. He ran, he came back. He hurt, he got hurt. He- he gave May his manor, and Squing his power, and- And how could May not be confused by that?
May Wong was full of nothing but gratitude, for Dracula.
After all, he was why he had met these people. Squing, and Wetzel, and Sasha. They were strange, yes. Strange and confusing and not who May had wanted, when she had been brought here. She had been lured by Dracula, traveled the world for Dracula, wanted Dracula. And yet- She found herself most happy, most accepted, most loved, by this strange ragtag group of creatures, who were as odd and lonely as she was. They understood her more than Dracula did, they cared for her more than Dracula did, they were hers more than Dracula was. But Dracula had been the one to give them to her. And now, he had given her his home. A real home. She had a home, and a title, and a family, and it was, admittedly, because of Dracula. How could May not be grateful for that?
May was full of very, very complicated feelings about Dracula. But at the center of it all, despite herself, May Wong was grateful.