The reason for my asking is simply because there are two potential outcomes, and history can only hold one result. The Elder Scrolls doesn't have intergrateable world states like the Dragon Age games, so what does this mean for Emperor Titus Mede II? Did a Dark Brotherhood assassin slay him after all? Was it even the actual emperor, or yet another decoy?

What happened in your Skyrim?

<speculation>

Dragon Break. In an event to be known later as the Warp in the North, the warring province of Skyrim somehow transformed overnight into one territory of a united Empire. Where the new ruler came from is anyone's guess since the Mede bloodline undoubtedly ceased, but there he is sitting his throne in 4E 240 and preparing for a counterattack on the Aldmeri Dominion.

Unrelatedly, the whereabouts of Paarthurnax the dragon were likewise lost to history.

</speculation>

I just killed him and stole all his expensive stuff, then killed the guy who made the contract. Hail Sithis, and all that.

"<speculation>  </speculation>" we aren't coding, you know that right?

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The dovahkiin killed him!

The khajiit stalked into the room as the door swung open on its creaky hinge. She was coated in blood as red as her hair, and the Emperor knew the blood wasn't her own. She held a sleek black ebony dagger, shining red even in places not slick with blood. In the other hand, a sharp daedric war axe dangled. A sharp, crackling tension filled the air. The Emperor greeted Khala-lee, the khajiit swathed in Dark Brotherhood armour al the way up to her neck, her head exposed in pride. She had a purring, deadly voice. An animal born to kill.

The Emperor had awaited and expected this day. He knew he was defenceless, his soldiers killed and nowhere to flee to except the bottom of the sea. He turned his back, gazing for the last time at the setting sun as its bloated belly brushed the horizon. The khajiit was taking her time. She first speculated at how one could just turn their back on life like that. She sighed, licking her sharp canines. The world slowed down as the Blade of Woe plunged into the Emperor's back, and his life was snuffed out like a candle before a gale. He fell to the floor in a crumpled heap. 

Khala-lee proceeded to rob the Emperor of his clothes and belongings, then stole nearly everything out of his room (including his spare clothes). She donned the heavy apparel, placed a blue circlet upon her head, and unofficially crowned herself Empress of Tamriel. 

An hour or so afterwards, after killing the sailors above deck and stealing a few tidbits, Khala-lee was stood upon the very edge of Katariah, dangling her legs above the cold sea spray, the wind rippling through her hair and the sun casting its final rays across Skyrim. Windsheer was warm in her hand, and Khala-lee felt a sense of sheer joy. Not at killing people, but at being there, at that moment, making history, and living to tell the tale. And yet she has never once told the tale yet. 

RIP Ethealia

~ Sildoyol

Death to the emperor.

Sildoyol

The khajiit stalked into the room as the door swung open on its creaky hinge. She was coated in blood as red as her hair, and the Emperor knew the blood wasn't her own. She held a sleek black ebony dagger, shining red even in places not slick with blood. In the other hand, a sharp daedric war axe dangled. A sharp, crackling tension filled the air. The Emperor greeted Khala-lee, the khajiit swathed in Dark Brotherhood armour al the way up to her neck, her head exposed in pride. She had a purring, deadly voice. An animal born to kill.

The Emperor had awaited and expected this day. He knew he was defenceless, his soldiers killed and nowhere to flee to except the bottom of the sea. He turned his back, gazing for the last time at the setting sun as its bloated belly brushed the horizon. The khajiit was taking her time. She first speculated at how one could just turn their back on life like that. She sighed, licking her sharp canines. The world slowed down as the Blade of Woe plunged into the Emperor's back, and his life was snuffed out like a candle before a gale. He fell to the floor in a crumpled heap. 

Khala-lee proceeded to rob the Emperor of his clothes and belongings, then stole nearly everything out of his room (including his spare clothes). She donned the heavy apparel, placed a blue circlet upon her head, and unofficially crowned herself Empress of Tamriel. 

An hour or so afterwards, after killing the sailors above deck and stealing a few tidbits, Khala-lee was stood upon the very edge of Katariah, dangling her legs above the cold sea spray, the wind rippling through her hair and the sun casting its final rays across Skyrim. Windsheer was warm in her hand, and Khala-lee felt a sense of sheer joy. Not at killing people, but at being there, at that moment, making history, and living to tell the tale. And yet she has never once told the tale yet. 

RIP Ethealia

~ Sildoyol

You need to calm down a bit with the description there mate (mate-ette? She-mate? Words?)