Lin Beifong is fifteen when she first asks her mother for a tutor. Toph is flabbergasted. "Why would you want a tutor?" she demands. "You know how to read and write. That's more than anyone can say for me, and I turned out just fine!"
Whenever Lin asks after that, she receives the same set of answers.
"You don't need stuffy old people to tell you how to behave."
"Tutors aren't any good anyways; I learned more from the badgermoles than I did from my teachers."
"The last thing I need is a daughter who talks in circles like the rest of these stupid politicians. You don't need to learn diplomacy, you don't need to learn how to be civil and fancy; you just need to know how to kick butt when the time comes!"
But Lin is persistent. Certainly the type of power her mother wields is fierce and effective. But Lin has the children of people in high places for playmates, and somewhere in the midst of the balls and the meetings and the galas and the press conferences she has become convinced that there is another kind of power, a power that is more learned than innate. This power comes from the ability to hold one's own in an intellectual conversation, to smile and hide one's anger, to speak eloquently in front of a crowd, to dance gracefully at balls and to mingle with the elite. There is a power, Lin decides, in being able to make people like you. And Lin is not ignorant. She knows her personality can be abrasive. She will need all the help she can get if she wants to wield this type of power.
This is what she tells her mother, and it is eventually the reasoning that convinces Toph to cave. But deep down, there is another reason Lin wants a tutor so badly, and he happens to be a young man with a bright blue arrow on his forehead. As Lin watches Tenzin be groomed to someday take his father's place as representative of Air Nomad culture, she knows that he will surely play a part in forming the city that she lives in. It is likely that he will even one day be elected to the council. How could he not be? He is charming and knowledgeable and cultured; he yields and stands firm at the proper times; he, like his father, has an unwavering moral compass that has earned him much admiration. Lin watches Tenzin, and she knows that his future wife will need to be able to hold her own in a world of politics. She must be adept at wielding this other sort of power.
And so Lin sits through her lessons with careful patience and attention. She learns how to eat at a banquet, how to dance in a traditional Earth Kingdom style, how to address a crowd, how to be pleasant and welcoming as well as how to veil her insults and threaten subtly. These things do not come naturally to her – far from it. Things like subtle are hardly in her DNA, and there are times when her mother insists that Lin is managing to say absolutely nothing in as many words as possible and threatens to fire her tutor unless she "cuts the garbage." But even the fierce Toph grudgingly admits that she is proud of how cultured and well-spoken her daughter is becoming. When the city holds its semicentennial celebration, thirty years after its official founding, nearly all present agree that the twenty-year-old Lin is a beautiful, captivating force at the ball. But while all eyes are on Lin, Lin's eyes are on an airbender, an airbender who is ignoring everyone but the nondescript daughter of an air acolyte. Lin watches Tenzin dance with Pema, and her heart breaks. All her lessons, she thinks, are for naught.
Yet, years later, when Lin looks back on the lessons, she does not regret them. They are, in many ways, what separates her from her mother. While Toph, as the Chief of Police, was equally respected and feared, Lin likes to think that she is feared only by criminals. Where her mother was rash, blunt, and occasionally offensive, Lin can be thoughtful, gentle, and courteous.
Can be.
She retains the fearless attitude and prodigious bending skill passed on to her by her mother, with the added benefit of being equally at home both behind City Hall's press podium and in her headquarters' interrogation room. While her tutoring may not have succeeded in helping her catch the flighty heart of an airbender, Lin has more than lived up to her mother's legacy, and managed to build upon it. Caring about your image, Lin thinks, does not have to be a weakness.
She is content with this.
Author's Notes: Yes, I know, semicentennial does not mean "thirty years." Lookit me, ma, I'm a factbender! XD You do what you have to in order to make the timeline work, amiright? Edit: I had completely forgotten about the age difference between Tenzin and Pema until it was pointed out to me. (Thank you knda!) Arglebargle. Add that to the things I have factbent for this drabble :/
I mostly wrote this because, to me, Lin has all of her mother's strength but a good deal less of her abrasiveness (although it definitely is there!). I was wondering what exactly might have caused Lin to grow up to be as graceful as she is – although Toph doubtlessly became more mature as she aged, I can't really see her ever losing the snotty sass and devil-may-care attitude (which we love about her) that Lin seems to lack. So here's my headcanon solution – Lin learned to be graceful for Tenzin in the hope of bridging that gap between their lifestyles. Unfortunately it appears it was too little, too late, but her lessons stuck with her nevertheless.
Hope you enjoyed! Please review, I appreciate all criticism!