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Geralt first sees it in Posada, which is the sort of poetic coincidence Jaskier would love and wax lyrical about. The fact it's a Gwent card would be declared decidedly less romantic, but oh, well. Jaskier never was one for Gwent.
His opponent is a decent player, certainly enough to give Geralt a challenge, but not impossible to beat. If it came down to a bet, Geralt could get the card without too much difficulty. Unfortunately, they aren't willing to part with it, so Geralt moves on.
The card sticks in his head, though. Half the appeal of Gwent is that the cards are inspired by real people, even if tales of their deeds are a little exaggerated, but Geralt never really thought this would make it into a card. But it did, and now Geralt's just wondering how he never knew about it before now.
It was already his habit to keep an eye out for new Gwent cards whenever he visits a shop or traveling merchant. Rarer cards were more often won in games and tournaments, but you shouldn't discount what might turn up in the shops. But it seems this card is still new enough, or rare enough, that it hasn't found it's way to the common merchants. He finds himself making his way to Novigrad, hoping that as the towns get larger, the odds might be more in his favor. No luck. It eludes him more effectively than any monster.
Geralt's all but given up when he enters the tournament at the Passiflora. The entry fee eats up a large portion of his purse, but he knows he can win it back easily, even if he doesn't win the whole tournament. He might even get a few new cards, though he likely won't find the card he seeks.
Midway through the tournament, he's playing against a man named Stefan. He looks vaguely familiar, perhaps they've played before? If they have, Stefan doesn't remark on it. He's a serious man, keeps the chatter to a minimum while they play. He barely reacts when Geralt plays a scorch card, wiping out the man's set of three [catapults], handily winning the round.
The second round, he pulls out a hero card, and Geralt stares. The room is suddenly brighter, his slit pupils blown out with interest. Stefan smiles at that, the most emotion he's shown the whole game.
Geralt loses, by a single point, and his disappointment at falling out of the tournament is completely overshadowed by his disappointment at failing to get the card. Stefan nearly wins the whole thing, which softens the sting a little.
After the tournament, Geralt finds Stefan nursing an ale at the bar.
"Congratulations," Geralt offers. Stefan raises an eyebrow. "Got farther than I did, at any rate."
Stefan nods, and Geralt takes a seat next to him, ordering a drink for himself.
After a few moments of companionable silence, Geralt speaks up. "Any chance you'd go for a rematch?"
Stefan eyes him warily. "What are you after, Witcher?"
"Just one of your cards," Geralt says. When he tells him which one, Stefan laughs.
"Figured you'd be after that one. You got yourself a deal. If anyone deserves to have it, it'd be you."
They play another round, and Geralt wins, just barely.
Later, he stops by the Chameleon. At Geralt's questioning look, Zoltan waves a hand to the stairs. He finds Jaskier right where he thought he would, scribbling away in his journal humming under his breath. Like this, Jaskier's pretty much oblivious to the world, so Geralt knocks on the wall and clears his throat. Jaskier startles, but when he sees Geralt his face breaks out in a grin.
"Geralt!" Journal abandoned, he rises and pulls Geralt into a hug. "What brings you here?" Before Geralt has a chance to say anything, Jaskier continues. "Zuegl in the sewers again? Or a katakan in the forest? Oh, I bet it's the Gwent tournament at the Passiflora!"
"Can't I just be here to see my friend?" Geralt teases.
"Of course! And it's lovely to have you."
They spend a while catching up, Jaskier filling in him on the goings on at Novigrad, some useful, some endless gossip that makes Geralt roll his eyes. In return, Geralt tells him of his hunts, and the stranger adventurers he'd had since they'd last travelled together. He has to pause so Jaskier can get his journal and take notes, filling in details when requested.
It's been hours of talking when Geralt finally brings it up.
"I won this at the tournament," he says, pulling his deck from his bag. "I know you're not much for Gwent, but I want you to have it."
"Geralt, you know I'm not going to play you again, not after you soundly defeated me for the tenth time in a row," Jaskier says. It's a long held argument, but it has no heat.
"I know, but this card should be yours." He pulls the card from his deck, and passes it over.
"I don't see why," Jaskier says, then finally turns the card over and sees what it is. "The White Wolf. Geralt, is this you?"
"How many White Wolves do you think there are?" Geralt teases.
"Only one like you," Jaskier breathes, quiet enough that Geralt's not sure if he was meant to hear. "Certainly only one with a bard to make him famous enough to have his own Gwent card. Geralt, you have your own Gwent card! That's amazing!"
"I've had one before," Geralt admits. "Though it wasn't nearly as flattering."
Jaskier understands immediately. "They actually made a card for that?! How dare they?!"
"Gwent's inspired by real life, Jaskier. It comes with the territory," Geralt reminds him. He doesn't mention that the Butcher card was only playable in the monster deck, and how accurate that used to feel.
"Well, at least now they've come to their senses," Jaskier says haughtily. He softens, and holds the card out for Geralt. "But this card should be yours, not mine. You've earned it."
Geralt doesn't take the card, instead gently pushes Jaskier's hand back. "No, you did. It's because of your songs, your friendship that anyone can look at me and not see a monster. You did that. So I want you to have it."
The salty smell of tears fills the air, and Geralt tenses. Jaskier's blue eyes well up with tears. "Jaskier, I-"
Jaskier waves him off. "Happy tears." He puts the card down and throws his arms around Geralt, holding him tight. Geralt returns the hug, resting his chin on Jaskier's shoulder.
"You've never been a monster, Geralt," Jaskier whispers, and for once, Geralt can believe it.