To your grave I spoke
Holding a red, red rose
Gust of freezing cold air whispers to me you're gone
— "A New Hope", Broken Iris
He could hear her still at times. Promise me, she had cried, in a room that smelled of blood and roses. Promise me, Ned. The fever had taken her strength and her voice had been faint as a whisper, but when he gave her his word, the fear had gone out of his sister's eyes. Ned remembered the way she had smiled then, how tightly her fingers had clutched his as she gave up her hold on life, the rose petals spilling from her palm, dead and black. After that he remembered nothing. They had found him still holding her body, silent with grief. The little crannogman, Howland Reed, had taken her hand from his. Ned could recall none of it. "I bring her flowers when I can," he said. "Lyanna was...fond of flowers."
Rose: I'm Rose.
Rachel: Pretty name.
Rose: Yeah...maybe too pretty now. "Patch" has a nice ring to it.
— Titans (2018), "Ghosts"
