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Isaac believed in love. Beyond all other things, love. His love drove him to his Master’s feet, to his Master’s whims, and now, to his death. His last role was as his Master’s dinner, honoring his loyalty by allowing Isaac to be useful to him even in death. His intellect had earned him his forge, his skill had earned him a place at his Master’s side and combined they bore his word to a place of value in his Master’s esteem. There was only love for him in front of that big fireplace as he bled dry in his Master’s arms, a love that he had never known in the world of man. Now his Master gave him intimacy, forgiveness of what humanity had seen as a flaw. Lessons he etched into his skin on the hot sands of his upbringing and within the cold walls of his forge. Pain wasn’t new to him, love returned was. He could feel his Master’s hand on his neck, pinpricks marking clawed fingers traced his bare back; getting caught on healing scars.
Dracula’s mouth at his throat was almost too much for him to bear. He had to be able to feel how filled to bursting Isaac’s heart was was. Through the pain of his life leaving his body, his veins sang with the knowledge that he had been the one to execute humanity in Dracula’s name and bring about this pure world, clean of the stain that his species had left. What greater return for complete devotion can there be than love and loyalty and death in the arms of the only person who had ever understood his heart.