Teddy instantly began weeping when he saw the stairs leading up to the stump. Like a puppy afraid of thunder, he trembled and whimpered, begging Ric...Perkin to make it stop. The pretender looked at Teddy with tenderness, but steel determination. He knew instantly what would happen and who was to blame. Whether or not Lizzie believed him to be her blood, he had never known the Queen of England to be cruel. Tales of her renowned kindness traveled far across the land. This was the same woman who ordered spending during the sweating sickness to help her fellow countrymen. It shocked him...for the briefest of moments, but then he understood. The words about her had been true: She is a Tudor Queen, committed to ensuring the continuation of her husband's legacy. So, this is how she eliminates the threats - in a small alley, no witnesses, no king present, no one but herself and her henchmen. A small smile snaked across his lips in appreciation. She knew he would never surrender his claim to the throne, and she would never allow another to question either her husband or her son's position. He had to be brave for Teddy's sake. "Teddy, you have to lie down and be still," he stated, calmly but sternly to the trembling boy. Teddy slowly inched his head closer to the stump, tears streaming down his face, despite his lack of intellect, his hand clutched desperately to Richard's. He did as he was told, and the ax quickly drove into this neck, his hand still firmly grasping Richard's. Unshed tears threatened to spill from Richard's eyes. Henry always thought of Teddy as a threat to the throne, but poor simple Teddy knew nothing of royalty, treachery, or conspiracy. The only way he would have been a ruler is as a puppet to an unseen hand, being molded and contorted by advisors ambitious in their political statuses. Perhaps that is what she feared that some greedy lord might have tried to clutch their talons into Teddy.

Staring at the severed body, the eyes glazed over and blood pouring from the neck; he vowed to not die in such an undignified manner. Whatever she or anyone believed, he had the right to the throne; he would claim that right until the blade cut his life from this world. The henchmen dropped the lifeless corpse into a coffin, a single coffin. He understood now, for they had already "executed and buried" the Pretender, at least in the public's eyes. No need to waste another coffin - they would probably burn his body or dump it in the river. But no matter what they did Lizzie, standing there shielded under the hood, would forever remember the judgment she passed on this day.