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marie-dufresne · 2 years

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Tit for Tat

Arthur Dufresne arranges a business marriage between his daughter and one of ShinRa Weapons Company’s rising stars: Josef Heidegger

1973.

The bustle was typical of the Dufresne household, particularly when there was a gala to put on. Their home was always host to a number of events, perched just above the beaches of Junon, offering their guests no shortage of views and elevated status as they clinked wine glasses and exchanged funds.

There were three days before the next event took place and at this time, there were people all over the property, from florists taking finals notes, to temporary water features being erected, caterers detailing the final menu, and as Marie tapped her pink feathered pen against her notebook, giving some thought to the uplighting, their butler appeared before her with a silver tray, a lilac R.S.V.P. envelope sitting upon it.

She lifted it with thanks, noting her father who had just come home, barking orders at this one and that as he made his way towards her.

The envelope was thicker than it should have been, and at the moment she withdrew the card and Arthur took his place beside her, she jumped back, a crumpled pair of red silk panties popping out from its prison. Arthur Dufresne let out a curse, but his daughter took a polished step back from the insult, giving her hand to a footman who had appeared out of nowhere, wiping down her skin and scurrying off with the discarded missive.

“Mother tastefully declines our invitation,” she said, giving her fingers a little flick. She shouldn’t have been so shocked at the crass response.

She ignored the reddening of his face, moving out from the ballroom and into the foyer.

“How was Midgar?” She asked, directing his mood towards the trip he’d just returned from, “the president is well? He recently showed me his drafts of those ‘plates’ he’s trying to move forward on. It seems exciting.”

Arthur stopped, nearly colliding with a dolly wheeling a statue of a fish, flourishing his annoyance with the file folder in his hand.

“Don’t talk about the president in that voice.” Marie’s brow lifted and she turned, curiosity alight. “What voice?”

“The voice you do when you try to get all chummy with someone. Artemis ShinRa is my business, not yours. At least not until I say it’s so.”

She pursed her lips at that. Of course. There was always a job to do and no one was exempt from being a job. Either they were a job, or they were no one. That’s the way her life was expected to run. She couldn’t help it if Mr. ShinRa had taken an interest in her first. It wasn’t a romantic interest, much to her disappointment (and surprise, if she was taking his habits into account), but even if she was not destined to be Mrs. ShinRa, she could still value being in his inner circle. He was young, handsome, and on track to rule the planet.

What more could an heiress want?

“Well you don’t speak to me unless you’re about to give me a job, so what do you need? I have your gala to plan.” If he hadn’t been so focused on his new business lead, he might have had a scathing comment, but instead, handed the folder over without much fuss.

“What can you tell me about this man?”

Tucking her notebook and pen under her arm, her eyes lit up when she saw the man in question.

“Oh! This is Josef Heidegger! He’s really up and coming right now.”

“How so.” He knew the answer, but what he didn’t know was anything else. His meeting hadn’t been with Artemis, but with Heidegger and as promising as a business agreement sounded, the man had not been forthcoming with any information regarding himself.

Marie’s hand flapped excitedly by the photo, her little fingers wiggling in the air—something she did when she was excited.

“Well, he’s only…twenty-….four, I think and the President just appointed him as ‘Head of Public Safety’, which makes sense because it's a palatable way of saying ‘military’ and why wouldn’t a weapons company just whip up their own military?”

Arthur let out a little breath from between his lips, finding amusement at her sarcasm. They had a great relationship with ShinRa, but even Arthur Dufresne was not nearly as ambitious as the president.

“But what’s really fascinating about Heidegger is that he’s entirely self made. He’s from Corel and from the pieces I’ve put together, got bored with life in the mines and set himself up as a mercenary until Artie took notice.”

“Don’t call him Artie.”

“So here we have this absolute brute of a young man, literally bully his way into a top tier position of the most rapidly growing company on the planet. He is dangerous, father. He’s dangerous in his own right and now he has the president in his pocket. Maybe it’s the other way around but…he is not someone we should cross.”

She took a moment to admire the photo in the folder, her fingertips playing at her lower lip as she shook her head.

“I mean…look at him. He’s massive, all muscle by the looks of it. He could strangle me with one hand, I bet.”

Arthur took a swipe for the folder, his effort thwarted by her quicker reflexes as she spun to give him her back.

“I advise you not to cross him then,” he said, moving to stand over her shoulder and jabbing a finger into her neck.

“I do not intend to,” she replied, putting distance between them and handing the file back, “we’re on the same team, aren’t we? What’s good for the goose is good for the gander and all that. So long as we all keep Artie happy, we’ll be happy.”

“Well your job is now to keep Heidegger happy. Be at the chopper in an hour; you’re going to Midgar.”

“I—“

Someone approached her and she silenced them with a hand in their face, her palm squishing against their nose until the turned and retreated from whence they came. This was not the time to be interrupting her.

“I can not go to Midgar! This gala is in three days. Three. Days. One of those days, my time will be spent getting ready to be present at it. A trip to Midgar and back will set me back at least half a day. I can’t do it. Reschedule whatever it is you have planned.”

As much as he found himself ever impressed with how she ran their family’s show, stepping into the role of lady of the house when her whore mother had stepped out, Arthur Dufresne would not ever allow himself to be ordered around by her. He would not ever allow her to take control of the schedule.

They were not equals. He inhaled slowly, puffing out his chest when he towered over her, his grip on her set in her hair, forcing her neck to hold her gaze to him. This was not an uncommon scene and though no one said a word, the foyer emptied almost immediately.

“You will fly to Midgar. You will meet with Heidegger. You will impress him and I don’t care with what. He has agreed to form an alliance with us through marriage upon approval of you as a mate and I don’t think I need to remind you that there is room on our guest list for a Mr. Colin Devereaux should you fuck this up for me.”

Any fire of defiance in her eyes was doused, replaced by an anxious scanning of her father’s features, and her voice lowered to just above a trembled whisper.

A mate? Had he really said that? As if they were nothing more than animals.

“And what if he doesn’t approve of me?”

“Then you will have fucked up.” He released her with a shove, demanding to the empty room that someone ring up one of his mistresses and Marie stared down at the floor for a moment, taking a deep breath. Marriage was not the news she had been expecting today.

She was unusually silent in the helicopter, having only had enough time to put on an outfit she thought suitable for the situation, she hadn’t processed any sort of plan. Impress, she’d been told. That was usually easy enough for her but…dazzling men with a cute smile and a tease of cleavage to remain in their thoughts was one thing. Presenting herself as a good prospect on one hour’s notice was altogether different. That was personal.

How did one approach a man whose idea of a wife was nothing more than a ‘mate’?

No, that wasn’t her focus. It couldn’t be. She needed to focus on what he was proud of. The things he had accomplished. His skills. Murder was one.

Murder was most of them.

Not a good plan either. This was…a business transaction. Business transactions she could handle. She had something he needed, she had the very thing she was best at and it was that thing that he required for the level of success he desired. The very thing Artemis ShinRa also required her for.

That would be her angle.

The temporary headquarters for the Department of Public Safety was no more than a few conference rooms and an office in a multi-level professional space at the harbor. If nothing else, it had a great view.

It was concierge that directed her to the second floor from the top (the top being Mr. Heidegger’s personal quarters at the moment) and when the attendant opened the gated door of the lift, twenty-one year old Marie Dufresne stepped onto the marble tile in forest green pumps.

When she left this building, she’d be spoken for.

Her dress matched her shoes (greens were so en vogue right now), offering no frills or embellishments. It was the cut that shone the most, a silhouette from decades past that hugged every curve she had to offer. She had many, and they were all on the table for Josef Heidegger. She bore so little skin; no cleavage in her jewel neckline, no shoulders, her arms covered by the deep green velvet racing all the way to the tops of her hands. Even though her hemline teased above her knees, the seams that ran up the back of her calves warned any onlooker that her legs were not as bare as they seemed. It was only the row of tiny, meticulous buttons that ran down her spine that suggested it was possible to remove the garment at all.

The only tease of flesh she gave at all was her neck, her golden curls swept up high into a near impossibly stable nest, where only a few dared pop out and tease against her pulse. It was an invitation if he was smart enough to notice.

As it turned out, he was not.

Maybe it wasn’t that he was unintelligent, but when she entered the room and he stood not to greet her as a gentleman would, but to advance on her, towering over and asserting his physical dominance, Marie realized what he lacked was sophistication. It explained the entire circumstance, really.

With her face barely inches from his chest, she could smell the cologne he wore. It was cheap, but surprisingly pleasant, though he wore too much of it. An easy thing to learn.

She didn’t quite understand why he was standing so close, the way a wild dog might push to intimidate its lesser pack mates, so she put a hand up to his white dress shirt, palm pressing into his chest ever so slightly.

“Mr. Heidegger.”

He hadn’t expected to be touched.

He had approached her with ferocity to test her. Would she run? Cry? Cower? She was pretty, but even pretty women withered into crones with age. He wasn’t going to waste his time with an imbecile attached to his name for the rest of his life. He was in charge. He’d make that much clear, but if he was to be shackled, it would be by someone who knew how to take it.

This one didn’t even flinch.

She cleared her throat lightly and he felt pressure where her hand was, but she wasn’t pushing him away. She used him as leverage to take a few steps back, raising her head to display a beaming smile.

“I’m so glad to meet you.”

For a minute, he didn’t say a thing. He stared down at her with his naturally disapproving face, shrouded in his beard that had always grown too thick, too quickly, and far sooner than all the other boys in his town. He was mean looking, unyielding, and though he was young, he’d never looked it.

And yet she didn’t seem to mind. She was…all sparkles and regality and why was she smiling like that?

He let out a little grunt and stepped away. “Let me tell you how this is going to go, Marie.”

“Oh please do,” she encouraged, taking her small strides to follow him, “but not here.”

With furrowed brows he looked down. How dare she—

“Tell me downstairs, at a table for two. Or upstairs on your sofa over a bottle of champagne.” Her hand was at his chest again, all light and playful. “I don’t usually enter a man’s living quarters but given the situation I don’t think it would be too scandalous.”

“You…want to eat?”

“Food and wine are always a romantic choice, don’t you think?”

Did he look like he gave a damn about romance? But then again…there was a filet that went unrivaled thusfar and his taste for red wines was growing. He had skipped lunch…

“We can order to my suite,” he concluded, swiping his suit jacket from the back of his chair and flipping it up over his shoulder, “I hope you like cats.”

“I like all cute animals,” she confirmed, following him out of the office and into the elevator. This time, the attendant made himself as small as possible, praying he wasn’t addressed by the man who had just walked in.

“There is one thing I need to know before I can think about agreeing to a marriage,” he said, using a card key to open the door to his dwelling. “Are you a virgin?”

If she hadn’t been expecting the question (so typical. so so so irritatingly typical of men), she would have rolled her eyes so hard she’d have passed out. Instead, she kept in the character she was playing.

“No,” she drawled, giggling and hiding her smile behind her hand, though her eyes displayed mischief as she returned, “are you?”

The indigence that crossed his features was expected and she continued to laugh when his fist hit the countertop.

“No! Of course not! What do you take me fo—“

Oh.

Damnit, Josef.

This girl was flirting with him. She was…she was being playful. Well shit. No one had ever flirted with him before.

“…that’s good then. I don’t have time to deal with amateurs.”

Marie gave a little half shrug of one shoulder and leaned back to rest up against the arm of his sofa, welcoming a black puffball of a feline who began to saunter across her lap.

“I’m sure you could show me a thing or two still.”

She adjusted her feet slightly and the sound of her heels against the wood floor sent the cat into a panic, scrambling down and choosing six directions in a row before finally disappearing into the bedroom.

Heidegger hid his embarrassment behind a cough. He wasn’t used to this sort of conversation. Filthy conversation at females expenses yes, but with his peers. With women it was…purely physical. There was no room for conversation. He put them where he wanted them and did as he pleased and that was that.

“So when does it happen, then?” He asked. If he was unfamiliar with conversing, marriage was an even further concept. “Did you bring paperwork with you?” From the looks of her itty bitty…purse? Wallet? What was that thing? Well, from the looks of the thing she had in her hand, there was no paperwork.

For as much as he claimed to have no time for amateurs, from where she sat, that’s all he was. He knew nothing of society. His newfound career and salary may have paid for a penthouse above the harbor, but this man had absolutely no idea how to behave in his tax bracket. This was her job. This was the part she would play as his wife. She was the key to all the doors currently locked to him.

“We can’t just get married,” she explained, “well we could, but you’ll never achieve what my father promised you if we get married today or tomorrow. The people need to believe it. Your business prospects who already adore and trust me need to believe and trust you. Signing a document and wearing a ring isn’t going to do it for them.”

He sighed with irritation, throwing his jacket in her direction before picking up the phone to order two filet dinners and whatever wine they recommended. He didn’t ask how she preferred it cooked, nor if she even enjoyed the wine they suggested. He ordered two of everything and that was that.

“You don’t have to love me,” she said, trying not to condescend. He didn’t know how to navigate this and that was fine, “you don’t even have to like me, but…it has to appear as if our decision to marry was personal, not economical.”

She laughed a little. How silly that was, when in her world almost nothing was personal, but if he appeared to marry her simply for the sake of an advantage, the advantage would be denied him. People were happy to be used and swindled until they knew they were being used and swindled.

“I have a lot of influence over the masses as well. You want their favor. Your department depends on their favor. Woo me. Date me, we’ll have a long enough engagement for people to gossip about, we get married and then…you do what you want. And in that period of courting I introduce you to all of the people you need to know, they’ll feel you out.

“You have both legs up on this world. Being a personal friend of the president, and then in a relationship with me, people will warm up to you quickly, that’s a fact.” It was most of what her father had said last night when he proposed the idea. He needed this deal, as much as he didn’t like to admit it. A former nobody turned mercenary turned head of city enforcement…he wasn’t the quickest thinker, but he knew that was a quick path to mutiny if he didn’t have the support of all the elite, not just ShinRa.

“…alright,” he conceded, “I will…take all of the necessary steps to gain favor.”

Marie jumped up, sending the black cat—who was making an attempt to come out again— scurrying back into hiding. With a happy little ‘yay!’ she clapped her little hands and wiggled her hips as if this was something that actually made her happy. Was it?

“What do you get from this? I know what your father gets, but I don’t see any benefit in a loveless marriage for you.”

“I get the benefit of being married to someone young, handsome, and strong. I’ve always known I don’t have a say in who I marry, but the other past candidates have been nearly twice my age. With you I have a chance at companionship at the very least, but…fondness and affection could follow companionship.”

He snorted, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. “I’m also incredibly violent. I’m sure that didn’t fly under your radar.”

There was a spark of something that flashed in her eyes then and he thought it might have been lust.

“You are incredibly violent,” she mused, running one of her manicured fingernails across her bottom lip, neither smiling nor unsmiling, “I suppose I’ll just have to be a very good girl then.”

And for the first time in his entire life, Josef Heidegger’s heart skipped a beat.

Marie Dufresne had not fucked up.

#Heidiggity Dog #ok I know I keep saying it's garbage but I genuinely hope people enjoy my take on young Heidegger and his rise and fall #because he had to start somewhere #somewhere apparently being afraid of pretty girls #Heidegger ffvii

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marie-dufresne · 3 months

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Discovering Chivalry

Surprisingly amenable to his new engagement, Heidegger rectifies an insult done to him, and a grievous wrong done to his intended. The timing, however, could have been better.

1973

Josef Heidegger had not expected to enjoy himself at the Dufresne gala. He wasn’t one for shows and charades, so having to pretend to be the beau of a girl he had met three days prior was not his idea of a good time. Rubbing elbows with people who knew they were better than him was even less of an ideal situation.

And yet…as soon as she had come to stand at his side, he found himself comfortable. Artemis joined them for a time and while Josef wasn’t the perfect conversationalist, both Artie and Marie were well versed in the social arts to speak just enough for him without making it obvious they were speaking for him.

When he broke a wine glass in his hand, forgetting his strength, his intended was neither frightened nor annoyed with him.

She was impressed.

“We make our stemware from reinforced crystal,” she explained, “to avoid breakage and save on cost.”

That he could shatter the thing with his bare hand—by accident—was no small feat and he found himself receptive to her praise. Not that he was in a hurry to do it again. It made a damn mess all over his thigh.

Though the night was generally enjoyable, there had been one exchange in particular that had…soured it. An older gentleman, drunk, with three young ladies (hired, by the looks of them) clinging to his arm, full of giggles.

“Well you’re the youngest she’s ever had!” He had laughed, gesturing to the petite woman on Heidegger’s own arm. He felt the way her grip tightened and she gracefully excused them, leading him away from the crowd.

When he questioned what the drunk had meant, she had simply smiled and gave him an affectionate squeeze, resting her curls on his arm.

“You aren’t the first time I’ve been used as currency,” she said simply, bringing him out to a balcony, overlooking the grand party. Here they could be alone without causing scandal or appearing rude.

Letting out a gruff sort of grunt, he released himself from her hold, meaty hands gripping the marble rail.

“And when were you his currency?”

Marie stepped forward, standing beside him, but not touching. “It’s nothing to worry about,” she assured him, “six or seven years ago, I think.”

Heidegger was not an educated man, nor was her a quick thinker, but even he could do basic mathematics. He didn’t know exactly how old she was, but if he had to guess, she was somewhere between nineteen and twenty-three.

Marie could see him thinking, working something out in his mind and she sighed. Placing her little hand over his own.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” she pressed, “but the world of high society and big business is beautiful only on the surface. Are you certain you want to be a part of it? There’s no room for heroes.”

Turning to look down at her, he gave her a firm once over, his eyes narrowing under his bushy brows as he wondered if she, too, was only beautiful on the surface.

“How old are you?”

Marie wasn’t expecting him to ask outright, but she supposed knowing the age of one’s spouse was helpful, so she didn’t hesitate to answer.

“Twenty-one. Plenty old enough to navigate this world.”

Twenty-one. So she’d been fourteen.

He grunted again and the next day he did what any rational man would do.

He beat the man for a solid twenty-minutes.

He hadn’t killed him, though he’d wanted to, but for the sake of his connection to Artie, Josef had held back, shown restraint, and kept it to a thorough maiming. The older man may or may not regain his ability to walk, but Heidegger didn’t really give a shit.

Artemis ShinRa, however, did.

He’d been in Heidegger’s office for ten minutes now, fuming, and unable to come up with anything to say. Finally, he let out a sigh and dragged his hand down his face.

“What were you thinking?”

Heidegger turned up his palms as if the answer were obvious, like he’d done nothing wrong. “The man insulted me.”

“Insulted you. How?”

Harold Davenport insulted everyone. He was known for casually offending and most people took it with a grain of salt and moved on.

When Heidegger said nothing, but pursed his lips in annoyance, unable to meet his friend’s demanding gaze, Artemis sighed again.

“It’s about her, isn’t it?”

When he was met with silence again, he crossed his arms, then uncrossed them, then began to pace. The damage control he was having to set in place because of this bordered on insane.

“Listen. I am…thrilled that you’re getting along with her, Josef. Trust me, the two of you happy together will make all of our plans that much easier, but for fuck’s sake, this is not the time to discover chivalry!”

Chivalry? Well, yes, he had been defending Marie’s honor or…something….like that, but Heidegger’s pride took precedence over that (an immaturity he would grow out of to some extent) so he scowled and sat back.

“He touched something that was mine, so I punished him for it. That’s it.”

Artemis stopped his pacing. Davenport had put hands on her? Not with her consent, that much was certain. If he’d done so by force, he couldn’t fault his friend, as much of a further mess that would make this entire situation. Or…had Arthur Dufresne offered her up one last time? If so, Artie would see to it that Arthur was…properly re-educated regarding the meaning of a contract and the legality that bound the parties to it.

“Last night?” he asked, a fist under his chin, brows furrowed in curiosity.

“No,” Heidegger bit off gruffly, “Before. Before….” he waved one of his hands around “before all this.”

Ah. The third option. Heidegger was a fist-happy fool.

Closing his eyes, Artemis inhaled slowly, keeping himself calm for the moment.

“You beat one of our investors to near death…because at some point in time….he slept with your fianceé. Am I hearing this correctly?”

“It needed to be done.”

“And do you intend to issue this punishment on every man who has been with your new little pet? Because I assure you my friend, the list is quite extensive. I’m on it myself.”

The way that Josef sat back in his chair, eyes glistening beneath his bushy brows, chest rising with an overly masculine need to fight told Artemis that Marie had not disclosed the information of their previous relationship to her newfound partner and that amused him. This had been a business transaction, after all. Didn’t she want all the neat little dotted Is and crossed Ts?

“If you want to take a swing at me, I’m right here.”

“It wasn’t personal,” Heidegger grumbled beneath his beard, “it’s a matter of principle.”

Artemis scoffed, letting out a frigid laugh as he waved his friend away. “Principle? I took you on because you have no principles!”

When Josef’s palms hit the desk, the chandelier rattled and when he stood, towering over his employer, the floorboards groaned and door trembled in its frame.

“I will not be made a fool!” He bellowed, red faced and seeming to grow thicker in his rage, “I will not be laughed at and mocked!”

Any other man may have pissed himself at the outburst, fearful that the man might tear him in two. Had any other man been standing before him, he might have been torn in two. But Artemis ShinRa was not afraid of his loose canon of a friend—not for his own sake—so he did not tremble and he did not assuage.

“Well. That ship has sailed, my friend. You’re marrying a whore.”

And then he strode from the room, listening as a handful of pencils splintered in Heidegger’s grip.

Marie Dufresne herself was just outside the office, just as he knew she would be, and Artemis was not gentle when he clutched her face in one of his hands, squeezing her jaw and rendering her without her ability to speak—or move.

“Get him under control,” he growled, shoving her away and storming from the building, displaying his anger to those who mattered little to him.

#Good ole Harold coming in to ruin everyone's day #The Warmonger's Wife #Heidegger ffvii #Heidegger ff7 #president shinra #ffvii fanfiction #ff7 fanfic

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