Pinkie Pie woke from an uncomfortable sleep, the clanking of chains sounding as she shifted. She didn’t understand why things took as disastrous a turn as this, nor had she understood why doing one thing for somepony else landed her in the Canterlot dungeon.

She blinked, vividly remembering that day like it had happened mere moments ago. She was trotting merrily along to Sugar Cube Corner when she saw a foal she’d never seen before. The foal was crying, and she knew, by instinct, that she needed to fix the issue at hoof.

She walked to the little pony and tapped his shoulder with a gentle, pink hoof.

“Wanna have some fun?” She asked with the biggest grin she could muster.

The foal, a colt, looked up at her with eyes of red. He shook his head, albeit reluctantly.

A group of ponies surrounded them without warning, all with scowls of hate written across their faces.

“Laughter is a crime!” They chimed in stone cold unison.

“W-what?” Pinkie was taken aback by that sudden remark, ears perked to attention.

Blackness. It was what always greeted her.

“Rise, Pinkamena Diane Pie.” Said a deep, gruff voice filled with malice.

Pinkie rose, her mane flat and hanging in tangles and many scars littering her once-vibrant body.

She didn’t understand anything about the unspoken law.

All she knew was that she was going to be killed for something she didn’t think was wrong.