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Geralt, born years and years and years before Jaskier was even a twinkle in his parents’ eyes was told there was someone out there for him. There was going to be someone who would complete him, who would love him unconditionally. Who would always be there for him, by his side, no matter what, through thick and thin.
And their animal companion would help him find them, it would lead him right to them.
Geralt was so full of hope, so young and innocent, looking at every animal he saw with wide eyes until his mother had to tell him that it was just an ordinary bird, or fox, or stray dog, nothing special … As the years passed his mother’s voice went increasingly tight and frustrated whenever he looked to her to check if she could see that animal or this one as well. And still, Geralt believed with his whole heart that he would some day find an animal no one but him would be able to see, that he would find that one part of his soulmate that would always belong to him.
And then his mother abandoned him at Kaer Morhen.
And Geralt was taken in to become a Witcher.
The first months Geralt spent frantically searching for his companion by day, and crying himself to sleep at night. If he could use it to convince the old Witcher training them that he had a someone out there waiting for him, then surely he wouldn't be forced to become a Witcher. Taking him from his soulmate like that would be cruel. And unjust. So, he would just have to find it. He had to. But as time went on and no animal made itself known to him, Geralt found his hope slowly dwindling and withering away.
During the trials he was selected to undergo more mutations than others because he was deemed unusually adaptable. The reason, Geralt convinced himself deep down, was because he had no soul companion, no soul mate that would miss him, no other half that could hold back the mutations from fully unfolding. No one that would mourn him if he were to die because of the trials.
And Geralt grew angry; at himself for ever having hoped there was someone out there for him, at his fucking soulmate for never looking for him. At fucking destiny. Who apparently had always intended for him to be mutated and incomplete. Alone. He had long ago stopped looking for animals that might belong to his soulmate. He didn’t need any more false hope that an unlovable, inhuman monster like him could ever have a second half.
Fuck destiny.
And fuck soulmates. Who needed them anyway.
He didn’t notice the songbird that had started following him on the path.
Ever since Jaskier had been small, he'd had a huge white wolf following him around. It had scared him at first - taller at the shoulder than he was, glowing golden eyes and sharp teeth, appearing out of nowhere as he played in the gardens under the somewhat watchful gaze of his caretakers. He'd whimpered in fear and nearly scrambled back, a scream caught in his throat to alert them to the danger, but then the wolf had gotten down on its stomach, ears flat, eyes large, and had started rumbling softly.
When Jaskier had just stared at the large animal, unsure of what was happening, the wolf had started crawling towards him, whining, almost as if it needed to be close to him. Cautiously and yet full of childlike curiosity at this strange creature, Jaskier had stretched out his arms, and as his small hands had fisted in its snow white fur, so soft and warm and thick, the wolf had huffed happily and butted its head against him.
Young as he was, Jaskier had heard of soulmates and their animal companions, and what it meant. What this meant for him. And all of a sudden he had been filled with love so bright and warm and pure for his person who he hadn’t even met yet. He had been filled almost to bursting with the knowledge that someone out there would love him just as much as he loved them - and going by all the innocent love his tiny body could feel right then , his person was going to love him so much.
He spent the next years dodging his tutors and caretakers to run and play with his wolf, following it into the forests surrounding his family’s estate, heedless of his parents' rules. They were exasperated, frustrated, it didn’t do for a young noble to run about in the forest, curling up under trees in the cold. It was not safe, he was not any simple peasant boy who could be allowed to run around unchaperoned! But what they didn’t see was the wolf, always the wolf curled protectively around his Jaskier, to keep him warm and safe. Always.
When he was old enough to hold and play a lute, Jaskier fell in love for the first (second) time. His heart, still filled to bursting and only having gotten fuller with love since he'd found his wolf (or had it found him?) rejoiced, and words and music flowed from him, joyfully telling the world everything he felt.
For his person.
And his wolf.
And Jaskier was so happy.
When he was older, Jaskier felt something pull him out into the world, away from home. His wolf pawed at the ground and whined, and Jaskier saw its desire to run, to help him find his other half. His family didn’t approve of his plans and made that more than clear, but Jaskier had his wolf, his lute, and his love (for music, for stories and adventure, for his person). And so he packed his things and set out on his path without a glance back.
And then, in one tavern after weeks of traveling and playing and searching, just as he was finishing a song with his wolf curled near his feet, the door to the tavern banged open and someone walked in.
Someone with snow white hair.
Someone with glowing golden eyes.