After reading The Romance of the Faery Melusine, one statement that the author wrote that stood out to me was this: “But fate, for all that, is Fate. We can only control a part of it by our actions or the consequences that come from them. We have to take what is offered when it is to our advantage” (Lebey 25).

This statement is important, because it expresses the conflict of fate vs. free will that haunts all the critical moments of this story. It appears in the middle of a significant exchange when Melusine, a faery who exists in the dual world of the supernatural and the deeply human (material), informs Raymondin that even though she knows his secrets, and could, in some sense, guide him and make him “free,” the possibilities open to the characters are ultimately controlled by fate. The idea that human beings “can only control a part” of fate immediately contradicts the typical heroic expectation of total control of one’s fate. This is both a personal tragedy for Raymondin and Melusine but also a common human dilemma reflected in myths, romances, and real life.

The structure and the pacing of the story are dependent on this outlook: Choices and vows made by Raymondin, Melusine’s supernatural contracts and penalties, and even the rise and fall of their heirs, works beyond our full understanding or control. The romance returns again and again to various moments in which characters are granted opportunities such as blessings, interventions, and magical objects– but they must inevitably face the limitations of their agency. Nonetheless, Raymondin’s vow, and his violation of it, instigates events that are irreversible, demonstrating the limitations of human agency. Those limitations are not exact: There is agency, there is an action, there is taking “what is offered”. Still, the chance of true happiness, restoration, or forgiveness is restricted by fate’s “laws and the perils that threatened him, of which the least were exile and death” (Lebey 26).

The statement ultimately matters because it addresses the existential drama around which the narrative revolves–a drama familiar in human experience across time and within varied cultural constructs. The narrative’s continual return to fate and limited agency is relatable to its central characters and amplifies the pain they are experiencing. Although the medieval romance combines aspects of Christian theology, local mythology, and psychological nuance, the idea that “we have only control over a part” of fate resonates. Human ambition is both lifted and reduced by this notion, urging individuals to accept what one can change and what cannot be changed. Thus, Melusine’s ultimate transformation into her supernatrual form and banishment, and Raymondin’s despair, are not only punishments, but instead symbolize the larger tragedy of existence: the conflict of wishing for perfect happiness alongside reality and the limitations it brings.

Thus, this principle forms the backbone not only of the dramatic arc but of the text’s philosophical legacy. It is a reminder to “take what is offered when it is due to our advantage,” to act where we can, and to accept our fate when we need to. It is a message to aspire to abandon oneself to fate in either timely ways in life or literature.