Varys seems to have ended up with far more opportunity than Littlefinger. One is striding at the head of a great fleet, to live in a massive Island castle with mild climate, with a legit fireproof queen, an army of horse warriors, mercenaries, and neutered lunatics, and a bunch of dragons.
The other is stuck in a blizzard, in a dark keep in the middle of a permanent blizzard, with little food nor warmth, a bunch of miserable dudes in shabby black clothing, an army of very smelly crazy people, and the only chicks are a couple of kids, a 7 foot tall butch behemoth, and a hot young biscuit who hates your guts. Oh, there's the matter of a damn near indestructible army of dead people marching down on your position to cut your in two.