I made this as a gift for my friend Tempus, who wanted me to write this story about his sona Nix becoming Tempus in 500-600 words. Now, not knowing much about Time Lords or anything Doctor Who related, this was quite a challenge. And yes, I copied and pasted this from the Word Document I typed it on since I'm too lazy to type it all again.

I gasp as I collapse onto the floor of the Tardis, blood leaking from the gaping wound on my side. Frantically, I search for anything that could be used as a bandage, anything to stop the bleeding. I can survive this, I think to myself. It’ll be okay.
Blood continues to leak from my side, dripping onto the floor, leaving quite a trail. I find a few bandages and put them over the wound, hoping that the bleeding would cease, and if not, at least slow down. To my disappointment and fear, the blood goes right through the bandages, deeming them useless in my current situation. I fall to the ground, feeling dizzy from loss of blood.
Dammit. I didn’t expect Skouro to be that adept with a sword. If I had just known, I wouldn’t be bleeding to death. Dammit… dammit… DAMMIT!
Noticing the growing pool of blood beneath me, I refuse to accept my fate as I start frantically looking around me, hoping to find something to save me, something to heal me before it’s too late. My breathing becomes labored as my vision blurs. As the pool of blood grows even bigger, the fear begins to hit me.
Death itself is not my fear at the moment. Being a Time Lord, I can still die eleven more times before I’m in my final body. The fear that hits me the hardest is regeneration, the process by which a dying Time Lord can change into a new physical body. It’s not just the body that changes, though. The Time Lord’s personality changes as well, and that’s what I truly fear.
Having already regenerated once before, I refuse to go through it again. I don’t want my personality to change again. I could possibly be caring, friendly, and pure of heart, but there’s also that small possibility. That small possibility of me becoming sadistic, cold, and cruel. Not a single thing would matter, just the satisfaction of seeing my enemies in pain, watching them suffer in their death throes. It sickens me when I think of the possibility of that happening.
I begin gasping for air, the trouble breathing being too agonizing. Suddenly, I scream at the top of my lungs as I look at my paws, the fur becoming a shade of gold. It’s happening, I think to myself. My second regeneration.
I start seeing a golden light encompass me, and I scream once more as my features start to change. As I change, I notice the light seems a bit faded, not as golden as last time. Maybe it looks more faded the more times I regenerate, I think, as my vision blurs once more.
After a few more agonizing seconds, I lay there on the Tardis floor, staring at my paw, now blue and purple. I begin to look at the rest of my body, my chestfur being white and the fur around my arms being black, along with light and dark shades of blue. I stare at the red horizontal stripes going down the right side of my body. I stand up after a few minutes, trying to recollect myself.
I walk around the Tardis for a few minutes, trying to take in my surroundings. No longer does Nix exist. Now, Nix is Tempus Itinerantur.