Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of American Horror Story, this is just for fun.

Warning: Since you're here you probably know Constance and Larry's story, which means dark atmosphere lays ahead.

"The eternal burden of the queen of my heart" is a line taken from "Last Night On Earth", a beautiful song by Empathy Test.


Larry was doing it again, skulking around their, no, her house; just hers now.

He couldn't help himself, despite her threats. He kept returning to that cursed place where he had tasted true happiness maybe for the first time in his entire life. His tongue had never been coated in a sweeter flavor before, as to the after-taste, well, that's a whole different story. The savor that still lingered inside his mouth could only be described as bitter and stale.

There was nothing he could do about it though; once you cross the threshold of The House there's no coming back, you're doomed. It's the kind of place that lures you in and never lets you out, it feeds on everything you are until there's nothing left.

The walls have ears, they know each and every one of your darkest secrets.

The walls have eyes, they know all about your deepest pain.

The walls are alive and if you listen closely you can hear them breathe. Chilling echoes and dreadful visions are their gift to you, a gift you never asked for but for which you have to pay the highest of prices.

Should you manage to run away know that you're not safe and you never will be. You'll come back eventually and you'll become a part of it all, sealing the deal with your dying breath. Selling your soul to the devil would be preferable in comparison.

Larry knew he couldn't stay away from the house for long, but that wasn't the only reason he was standing out there. She was the main reason, he needed to see her. Her call was far more enticing than that of the haunted building, and that is saying something.

A dark moonless night was the perfect time for him to go outside. Facing people in broad daylight was definitely not an option anymore, not when around 70% of his body was covered in ugly ragged scars.

Sometimes he could still feel it, the kiss of fire on his skin, the dance of flames on his ravaged body.

Tate, that little psycho son of hers, had set him on fire to avenge his brother's death.

For the crime of killing an innocent soul Larry had been prepared to endure the undying flames of Hell, little did he know those flames would have come to plague him on Earth while he was still alive.

Larry prowled across the lawn, shielded by the blackness of the night. He knelt under the large windows of the living room and peeked inside, his dull eyes looking for her since only a tiny stolen glimpse of her timeless beauty could reignite his vacant stare.

He made out her silhouette in the dim light of the room at last. She seemed to have fallen asleep on the couch, alone. Travis was nowhere to be seen, her new handsome beau had probably decided to walk out the dogs. All the better, there was just only so many times he caught her all by herself.

I could talk to her, Larry thought to himself. I could finally talk to her and see her up-close. God, it's been so long.

The idea was too tempting to be dismissed. A moment later he was already facing the front door, standing on the doormat that for a brief period of time had welcomed him home every evening after work.

Larry stood there for a moment, slowly brushing his fingertips against the smooth, cold surface of the door handle. Should he dare enter? Oh, she would not be pleased to see him... she would get angry. Still, he had to give it a try.

He took a deep breath and turned the handle, the door opened without holding up the faintest resistance. Considering the wretched disturbed souls that haunted the house, why bother locking it?

Larry sneaked inside and closed the door behind him without making a sound.

Once inside he was instantly overwhelmed by dreadful memories.

No need to look hard, even with his eyes squeezed shut he could sense them, shadows crawling down the ancient walls, silent witnesses to countless unforgivable crimes. Spirits have good memory, but then again, what choice do they have? There's plenty of time to dwell on the past around here.

Chills went racing down Larry's spine as icy whispers brushed against his disfigured face; such familiar ghosts... the only woman who could silence them happened to be in the adjacent room, thankfully.

Larry tiptoed across the hall and stopped on the living room door, facing the back of the white leather couch. He wasn't able to see her, not yet.

He entered the room, still on tiptoes, careful not to wake her. The only source of light was provided by the fireplace, its flames crackling fervently. Larry froze. Since that goddamn day the flames frightened him of course and normally he would have gone anywhere near them, but for her... for her he did.

When he saw her he sank to his knees, eyes reignited, filled with awe and longing.

Constance, his beautiful Constance, right before him at last.

Larry felt tears prickling in his eyes, threatening to tumble down his marred cheeks, but he choked them back; seeing him act like a whimpering child always chafed her.

She was laying on her side, curled up, with her head resting on her left arm. Her breathing was soft and even, making her chest heave in a mesmerizing way. The low neckline of her lilac satin nightgown was revealing a good portion of her cleavage, which naturally drew Larry's full attention. She was far from young but still very beautiful.

When his yearning to touch her golden skin became almost unbearable Larry knew he'd better avert his gaze.

Constance's right arm was dangling limply off the couch, his eyes followed it and spotted a forgotten glass on the carpet, empty but for a couple of half-melted ice cubes in some sort of amber liquid.

Larry slightly shook his head, she was still drinking too much and it pained him to see her like that.

An unfinished canvas standing on a nearby easel caught his eye. Ah, yes... he had almost forgotten how striking her paintings were, eerie, of course, but fascinating nonetheless.

Before falling asleep Constance had chosen to bring a fierce naked woman to life with some skillfully placed brush strokes. A truly fearsome glint had been flashed across her onyx eyes and a cruel grin showed off bloodstained teeth. Her hands were blotched with dark encrusted blood. The picture was incomplete so Larry was left wandering who was the victim she had torn apart.

A soft moan escaped Constance's lips, forcing him to look at her. She shivered in her sleep, wrapping her peach-colored dressing gown tighter around her thin frame.

Larry was dying to touch her, to run his thumb over her full bottom lip, to place his hands on her hips claiming her body... but more than anything in the world he was craving for her touch.

Without realizing it he had gotten closer and he saw his hand reaching out of its own accord, as if it belonged to somebody else. He watched himself run the back of his hand across her cheek, light as a feather.

Apparently not light enough.

Constance's eyes flew open and met Larry's terrified orbs.

He withdrew his hand right away and backed off.

She jolted upright, rubbing her cheek in disgust, trying to wipe away the lingering feel of his filthy touch.

"What do you think you're doing in my house?" She seethed, hugging herself.

Larry swallowed nervously. "I-I needed to see you Constance. You know how I feel about you... please, you just say the word and we could get a second chance."

"A second chance? With you?" She sneered. "And why would I want that?"

"I love you, Constance."

She grimaced at that and looked away, hugging herself tighter. "That's your problem."

"I know you loved me once, if you could just let me try I-I'm sure I could make you fall in love with me again!"

Constance snorted loudly. "Don't be absurd, I did no such thing. I've never loved you, as a matter of fact I've never even felt the tiniest scrap of affection for you. I tolerated you, for the sake of my family; that's what I did."

"I don't believe you."

"Then again, that's your problem." She shrugged, running a hand through her blond wavy hair. It wasn't very long but Larry thought she looked lovely with her hair down, her favorite up-do made her look older and way too austere.

He tried to get closer but she motioned for him to stop.

"Constance, please. I'll give you anything you want, anything you desire."

She tilted her head back, roaring with laughter. She truly knew the wickedest ways to make fun of him.

Constance slowly pulled herself together and looked at him in the eye, a cruel smirk playing on her lips.

"I want beauty, I want youth." She lifted a hand and placed it on her own neck, stroking the long elegant column of her throat while leering at him. "I want firm, smooth, unblemished skin under my palms. I want muscular flesh flexing under my fingertips. I want smoldering eyes, not your deadly dull stare. I want high cheekbones and the chiseled jawline of a young man. Can you give me all that?"

Larry lowered his eyes, deeply ashamed of his disfigured body.

In a heartbeat she swiftly closed the distance between them and he felt the back of her hand running teasingly down the marred flesh of his right cheek. He widened his eyes in shock.

Then, just as he was about to lean into the soft touch he had craved so much, she removed her hand and wiped it roughly on her dressing gown, not even bothering to hide her loathing.

"No, of course you cannot give me that." She remarked dryly, moving away from him.

"It's true, I cannot give you that." Larry conceded, already missing the heat radiating from her body. "But what is beauty compared to the love I'm pledging to you? Nobody could ever love you like I do, not even your young and handsome beau. I'll look after you, I'll protect you. I've killed for you and I would do that again."

"You think I need protection? You think I need you, of all men, to protect me? Don't make me laugh." She spat viciously. "I watch over myself, I watch over my family; no one needs to do that for me. And what is love? I've got no use for it, not anymore; I've learned my lesson well enough."

She spoke those last words in a faint voice dripping with sorrows never forgotten, stirring memories of unhealed wounds. Larry silently cursed her husband once again, for hurting her, for betraying her trust and for robbing him of the chance to be loved by her in return. He wished she hadn't killed him so that he could do that himself.

Her next words pulled him from his vengeful thoughts. "So you've seen Travis, uh? Handsome, isn't he?" Constance's lips curved into a mischievous smirk.

"Yes, yes, very handsome." Larry said through gritted teeth. "But does he know you like I do?"

"You don't know me at all."

"I know that we've seen true darkness, Constance, you and I, staring right back at us, changing us. We've done horrible things..."

"You're so weak, you let this place get the better of you." She scoffed.

"The house didn't do this to me, you did."

Constance sneered at him. "Don't blame it on me if you're not man enough. God, you're so fucking pathetic, look at you... you're shaking like a leaf looking at the dance of flickering shadows of the past on the wall."

"They're not just shadows, you of all people should know how powerful they are. This house reeks of death and decay, only painful memories and regrets inhabit this cursed place, and they threaten to destroy you with every breath that runs through their rotting lungs!"

"So be it! I'm not as frightened as you are, I can face it all. You have no idea how strong a woman can be, how strong a mother can be. My children are here, trapped inside these walls; you think I'm gonna leave them behind? For you?"

"Come away with me, I'm begging you." Larry pleaded, undeterred. He waited for her to answer but another voice spoke instead.

"Larry, Larry, Larry... I thought I heard you declare your love for my mother in your usual sappy tone, like you used to do back in the good old days."

Larry turned around to face the boy, shaking uncontrollably.

"Hey there man, long time no see." Tate greeted him with a wicked grin.

Larry didn't reciprocate; he remained silent, drenched in cold sweat.

"Isn't he miserable, mother? He's afraid of a boy, a dead boy no less."

"Truly miserable, Tate." Constance agreed walking over to her son. She placed a hand on his right shoulder, stroking his soft blond hair protectively with the other.

"M-maybe that's because the last time I saw you you set me on fire." Larry forced out the words.

"Ohh, maybe you're not the spineless jerk I thought you were after all." Tate teased him. "Let's put it to the test, shall we? Would you like to meet some friends of mine, Larry? They live in this house too. And guess what... they despise you almost as much as I do."

Larry blinked the tears away and suddenly three figures were standing beside Constance and Tate, their skin was burnt beyond recognition but he knew all too well who they were.

"Lorraine..." Larry said, his wife's name barely more than a whisper on his thin lips.

"I wish I could say it's good to see you Larry, but really, it's not; not after what you've done to us." Lorraine said clutching their little daughters' shoulders.

"It wasn't my fault! Constance brainwashed me, she told me to leave you!" Larry managed to say through the sobs. Constance laughed coldly at that.

"You make me sick." Lorraine said in a dangerously flat voice. "Take responsibility for your actions for once. We were your family; you never turn your back on your family."

Then she pushed her daughters forward and said: "Come on girls, don't be shy, go say hi to your daddy."

The two figures moved forward awkwardly, their blackened skins glistening red as if they were made of burning embers. When Larry met their empty pitch black eye-sockets a terrible sense of dread washed over him. He scrambled back clumsily and flew out the door, fast as lightning.

"Woops, seems daddy didn't miss you very much." Lorraine chuckled.

It wasn't long before Constance and Tate joined her, their disturbing laughter echoing throughout the house.


AN: English is not my native language so, please, forgive my mistakes and don't be afraid to point them out.

Text in italics marks thoughts, emphasis on certain words and sentences taken from the TV show.

Thanks for reading :)