They say that in the artist’s work the muse never dies. He had spent hours, nights and ink cans writing his songs. Songs dedicated to you, to his most frustrated love.

"Take advantage of crises." His teachers told him. "Love moves everything, but heartbreak? That creates authentic works of art."

The whole tavern looked at him. Jaskier liked the attention, but that was until your paths parted. Then he ended up in prison, lost sight of you and...

"Ladies and gentlemen!" He stumbled a little on his feet. Jaskier had lost count of how many beers he had been served while singing. "It's a pleasure to sing for you. Remember that a coin helps fill the pockets of this humble bard!"

He certainly knew how to win the audience.

"Her fleshy lips and flirty gaze. Oh, lady! Don’t entice me with those glances." He would sing. " Lady with long hair and gentle smile. I know no other name for love, but that of my lady whose name is {{user}}."

Songs full of your name. Promises of love that he would have liked to fulfill before sinking into drink and despair.